960 
C898 


IRLF 


FIRST  YEAR 


SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  We*t  45th  SU  New  York 


MRS.  PARTRIDGE  PRESENTS 

Comody  in  3  aets.  By  Mary  Kennedy  and  Buth  Haw 
thorne.  6  males,  6  females.  Modern  costumes.  S  interiors, 
Plays  2%  hours. 

The  oharaeters,  scenes  and  situations  are  thoroughly  up-tu- 
tjtafte  in  this  altogether  delightful  American  comedy.  The  heroins 
fo  a  woman  of  tremendous  energy,  who  manages  a  business — »f 
•  Jhtf  .managers  ^•jeryjiimgj — with  great  success,  and  at  home  pro 
'jiSeff  over  *4iTc  •dj-Stjr»e»  of  a  growing  son  and  daughter.  Hex 
struggle  to  give  "the  cnilc^ren  the  opportunities  she  herself  had 
3ni|t«!id.J  a,nd»ftlse«ehMdren'*8  Ultimate  revolt  against  her  well-meant 
*5^,»aV«'?prit-!-«ikl|at  »s*U»6,b^i8  of  the  plot.  The  son  who  is  cast 
for  t!ie*pa*rt  of  artist* and  the  daughter  who  is  to  go  on  the  stege 
offer  numerous  opportunities  for  the  development  of  the  comic 
possibilities  in  the  theme. 

The  play  is  one  of  the  most  delightful,  yet  thought-provoh^ug 
American  comedies  of  recent  years,  and  is  warmly  recommended 
to  all  amateur  groups.  (Royalty  on  application.)  Price,  75  Cense. 


IN  THE   NEXT  ROOM 

Melodrama  in  3  r-.cte.  By  Eleanor  Robson  and  Harriet 
Ford.  8  males,  3  femaleg.  2  interiors.  Modern  costumes 
Playa  2^4  hours. 

"Philip  Yantine  has  bought  a  rare  copy  of  an  original  Boulc 
cabinet  and  ordered  it  shipped  to  his  New  York  home  from  Paris. 
When  it  arrives  it  is  found  to  be  the  original  itself,  the  pos 
session  of  which  is  desired  by  many  strange  people.  Before  tb& 
mystery  concerned  with  the  cabinet's  shipment  can  be  cleared 
up,  two  persons  meet  mysterious  death  fooling  with  it  ani  the-, 
happiness  of  many  otherwise  happy  actors  is  threatened"  (Burn* 
Mantle).  A  first-rate  mystery  play,  comprising  all  the  element* 
0f  suspense,  curiosity,  comedy  and  drama.  "In  the  Next  Boom" 
ia  quite  easy  to  stage.  It  can  be  unreservedly  recommended  It* 
high  schools  and  colleges.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dohars.) 

Priee,  76  Cents 


FBENOH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  €ity 
Our   New    Catalogue  Will   Be   gent   on  Beceipt   of   Five   Cent*. 


THE  FIRST  YEAR 


A  COMIC  TRAGEDY  OF  MARRIED  LIFE 


BY 
FRANK  CRAVEN 


All  Rights  Reserved 

:AUTION:  Professionals  and  amateurs  are  hereby  warned 
that  "THE  FIRST  YEAR,"  being  fully  protected  under 
the  copyright  laws  of  the  United  States,  the  British  Em 
pire,  and  other  countries  of  the  Copyright  Union,  is  sub 
ject  to  royalty,  and  anyone  presenting  the  play  without 
the  consent  of  the  owner  or  his  authorized  agents  will  be 
liable  to  the  penalties  by  law  provided.  The  amateur  act 
ing  rights  are  reserved  for  the  present  in  all  cities  and 
towns  where  there  are  stock  companies.  Royalty  will  be 
quoted  on  application  for  those  cities  and  towns  where 
it  may  be  presented  by  amateurs.  Applications  for  the 
amateur  acting  rights  must  be  made  to  Samuel  French, 
25  West  45th  Street,  New  York.  For  professional  pro 
duction  write  to  John  Golden,  139  West  44th  Street,  New- 
York  City.  All  unauthorized  performances  will  be  prose 
cuted. 


New  York: 
SAMUEL  FRENCH 

Publisher 
25  West  45th  Street 


London : 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  LTD. 

26  Southampton  Street 

Strand 


<?(. 

£  f  v 

COPYRIGHT,  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA,  1920,  BY  FRANK 

CRAVEN 
COPYRIGHT,  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA,  1921,  BY  FRANK 

CRAVEN 

COPYRIGHT,  DOMINION  OF  CANADA,  1921,  BY  FRANK  CRAVEN 
COPYRIGHT,  GREAT  BRITAIN,  1921,  BY  FRANK  CRAVEN 

All  Rights  Reserved 


tjoUce  should  be  taken  that  the  possession  of 
this^  V)ofr  :«WJW3mit  a  valid  contract  for  production  first 
having  been  obtained  from  the  publisher,  confers  no  right 

;  tca--fieep^Q  U> professionals  or  amateurs  to  produce  the  play 

'.  /publicly.  ©F  *KI«  private  for  gain  or  charity. 

In  its  present  form  this  play  is  dedicated  to  the  reading 
public  only,  and  no  performance,  representation,  produc 
tion  recitation,  public  reading  or  radio  broadcasting 
may  be  given  except  by  special  arrangement  with  Samuel 
French,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York. 

This  play  may  be  presented  by  amateurs  upon  payment 
of  a  royalty  of  Twenty-Five  Dollars  for  each  performance, 
payable  to  Samuel  French,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York, 
one  week  before  the  date  when  the  play  is  given. 

Whenever  the  play  is  produced  by  amateurs  the  follow 
ing  notice  must  appear  on  all  programs,  printing  and  ad 
vertising  for  the  play:  "Produced  by  special  arrangement 
with  Samuel  French  of  New  York." 

Attention  is  called  to  the  penalty  provided  by  law  for 
any  infringement  of  the  author's  rights,  as  follows. 

"SECTION  4966 :— Any  person  publicly  performing  or  rep 
resenting  any  dramatic  or  musical  composition  for  which 
copyright  has  been  obtained,  without  the  consent  of  the 
proprietor  of  said  dramatic  or  musical  composition,  or  his 
heirs  and  assigns,  shall  be  liable  for  damages  thereof, 
such  damages,  in  all  cases  to  be  assessed  at  such  sum,  not 
less  than  one  hundred  dollars  for  the  first  and  fifty  dol 
lars  for  every  subsequent  performance,  as  to  the  court 
shall  appear  to  be  just  If  the  unlawful  performance  and 
representation  be  wilful  and  for  profit,  such  person  or 
persons  shall  be  guilty  of  a  misdemeanor,  and  upon  con 
viction  shall  be  imprisoned  for  a  period  not  exceeding  one 
year."— U.  S.  Revised  Statutes:  Title  60,  Chap.  3. 

"The  First  Year" 


The  following  is  a  copy  of  the  playbill  of  the  first  per 
formance  of  "The  First  Year,"  at  the  Little  Theatre,  New 
York  City,  N.  Y.  : 

JOHN  GOLDEN 

presents 

"T  H  E    F  I  R  S  T      YEAR" 

A  Comic  Tragedy  of  Married  Life 

By  FRANK  CRAVEN 

Staged  under  the  direction  of  WINCHELL  SMITH 

Produced  at  the  Little  Theatre,  New  York  City, 

on  October  20th,  1920. 

THE   CAST 

Roberta  Arnold GRACE  LIVINGSTON 

William  Sampson  MR.  LIVINGSTON 

Maude  Granger  MRS.  LIVINGSTON 

Tim  Murphy   DR.  ANDERSON 

Lyster  Chambers  DICK  LORING 

Frank  Craven  THOMAS  TUCKER 

Leila  Bennett  HATTIE 

Hale  Norcross MR.  BARSTOW 

Merceita  Esmonde  MRS.  BARSTOW 

ACT    I.    Training    Quarters — at    the    Livingston    Home, 
Reading,  111. 

(Towards  the  end  of  Act  I  the  lights  will  be 
lowered  to  indicate  a  lapse  of  a  few  hours.) 

ACT  II.    The  Ringside — at  Tommy's  Apartment,  Joplin, 
Mo. 

ACT  III.    The  Knockout— at  the  Livingston  Home. 
EXECUTIVE  STAFF  FOR  MR.  GOLDEN: 


William   M.    Goddard Manager 

J.  C.  Drum  Press  Representative 

P.  E.  McCoy General  Stage  Director 

George  Wright,  Jr Stage  Manager 

Everett  Annett  Chief  Electrician 

Joseph  Hughes  Master  of  Properties 

3 


CHARACTERS 

In  the  order  of  their  appearance. 

FRED  LIVINGSTON 
MRS.   FRED  LIVINGSTON 
GRACE  LIVINGSTON 
DR.  MYRON  ANDERSON 
DICK  LORING,  JR. 
THOMAS  TUCKER 
"HATTIE" 
PETER  BARSTOW 
MRS.  PETER  BARSTOW 

ACT  I.  Training  Quarters — at  the  Livingston 
Home,  Reading,  III.  (Darkness  in  Act  I 
to  denote  lapse  of  time.) 

ACT  II.  The  Ringside — at  Tommy's  apartment, 
Joplin,  Mo. 

ACT  III.     The  Knockout — at  the  Livingston  Home. 


631334 


THE  FIRST  YEAR 


Home  of  the  Livingstons.  \  .  *     -       ' 

A  comfortable  sitting-room,  such  as  may  be  found 
in  any  Middle-Western  suburban  home.  En 
trance  into  the  room  from  the  hall,  is  a  small 
archway  R.  of  c.  Back  of  this  archway,  which 
is  curtained  in  any  quiet  chintz,  is  the  hall. 
Stairs  run  from  c.  off  to  L.,  and  back  of  the 
stairway  is  a  hat-rack  and  umbrella  stand. 
There  is  a  smalt  opening.  Down  R.  there  is  a 
window,  looking  out  on  to  a  porch,  with  a  small 
settee  under  it.  R.U.  there  is  a  French  window 
which  also  leads  out  on  to  the  porch,  and  be^ 
tween  the  window  and  door  is  an  old  desk,  a 
hideaway  for  papers,  books,  etc.  On  top  of 
the  desk  is  a  hand  hall  light.  Between  the  arch 
c.  and  the  porch  door  is  a  writing  desk  of  more 
modern  manufacture. 

L.  of  c.  is  an  old-fashioned  wall  telephone, 
with  a  local  telephone  book  suspended  from  the 
hook.  A  fireplace  c.,  with  andirons  and  fender 
and  a  mantel.  Over  the  mantel  is  a  large  oil 
painting  of  a  probable  ancestor.  Just  R.  of  the 
fireplace  is  a  small  ash-stand  and  cigar  cutter. 
Large  easy  chair  in  front  of  fire-place,  and 
on  the  mantel  a  couple  of  medical  journals  or 
pamphlets.  L.  of  mantel  is  a  book-case  of  about 
three  or  four  shelves  high,  curtained,  with  mag- 
azines  strewn  ^  on  top.  Against  the  wall  L. 
stands  an  upright  piano,  upon  which  is  a  long 


8  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

panel  looking-glass.  Against  the  piano  and  be 
low  it  is  a  stand  for  bric-a-brac. 

A  door  down  L.  leads  to  the  dining-room. 
L.C.  is  a  small  oval  marble-topped  table  with  a 
vase  of  flowers  and  couple  of  books,  and  be 
low  it  J:  settee.  A  rocking  chair  with  side 
pockets  is  almost  c.  R.  of  it  another  easy  chair 
and  a  hassock.  R.  a  Davenport,  flanked  by  a 
long  monk's  table,  with  a  lamp  and  a  flat  marble 
match  safe,  an  ash  tray  and  a  humidor  and 
tobacco  jar. 

Through  the  doors  of  the  porch  R.  there  is  a 
glimpse  of  the  balustrade,  and  the  drop  beyond 
shows  the  street  of  the  town,  lined  with  elm 
or  maple  trees. 

The  walls  are  hung  with  one  or  two-  good 
pictures  and  a  couple  of  oil  paintings  of  ances 
tors.  The  room  is  lighted  with  electric  lights 
set  in  old-fashioned  brackets;  these  are  con 
trolled  by  a  push-button  just  R.  of  the  c. 
opening. 

It  is  about  8.15  on  a  June  night  and  the  lights 
are  on  in  the  house.  The  lighting  outside  is 
bright  moonlight. 

AT  RISE:  MR.  and  MRS.  LIVINGSTON  and  GRACE 
discovered. 

LIVINGSTON  is  stretched  comfortably  in  an 
arm  chair  standing  at  L.  of  long  table  R.,  read 
ing  the  local  paper  and  smoking  his  pipe. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON  is  seated  near  him  on  his 
L.,  knitting. 

GRACE  is  at  the  piano  up  L.,  playing  some 
sentimental  bit  of  music  very  quietly.  As  she 
finishes,  her  hands  come  down  on  the  keys  as 
though  she  was  glad  the  tune  was  ended.  She 
rises  and  glances  through  the  music  on  the  top 
of  the  piano. 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  9 

Telephone  rings,  three  short,  sharp  rings,  then 
repeated. 

LIVINGSTON.  (Looks  inquiringly  at  MRS.  LIV 
INGSTON,)  Eh? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  No,  that's  ring  three — Mrs. 
Park's  number. 

LIVINGSTON.  Oh!  (He  resumes  his  reading. 
Pause.  Then  without  looking  up.)  What  are  we 
paying  for  eggs  now? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Fifty-eight. 

LIVINSTON.    (Turns  his  head  half  way)    Huh? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Fifty-eight. 

LIVINGSTON.  Gosh!  I  can  remember  when  you 
could  get  them  for  eighteen. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  It's  terrible!  (Goes  on  with 
her  knitting.  LIVINGSTON  resumes  his  reading.  In 
the  distance  comes  a  call  of  a  girl's  voice,  a  signal 
to  GRACE.  It  sounds  like  ooo-oo,  oo-oooo-oo.  GRACE 
turns  and  starts  slowly  to  the  door  leading  to  porch. 
As  she  is  half  way  there  the  call  is  repeated,  and  as 
it  finishes  she  opens  the  doors.  She  stands  just  out 
side  the  room  and  calls  off.) 

GRACE.    Oh,  hello,  Lou! 

Lou.  (Off  stage)  Hello,  Grace.  Helen  and  I 
won't  be  over  tonight. 

GRACE.     You  won't — why  not? 

Lou.  The  Camerons  are  calling  and  mama  wants 
us  to  stay  home. 

GRACE.    Oh,  I'm  awfully  sorry. 

Lou.    So  am  I! 

GRACE.     Well,  make  it  tomorrow  night. 

Lou.    All  right! 

GRACE.    Good  night,  Lou. 

Lou. ,  Good  night. 

GRACE.  Good  night,  Helen.  (She  enters  from 
balcony,  sees  her  mother's  inquiring  look.)  It  was 


io  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

Helen  and  Lou  Ford.  The  Camerons  are  calling  on 
them  tonight,  so  they  can't  come  over  here. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    That's  too  bad,  dear. 

GRACE.  I'm  just  as  well  pleased.  ( GRACE  crosses 
L.  to  bookcase,  tlun  turns  to  table  and  looks  for  a- 
book  she  wants.) 

LIVINGSTON.  (Realizes  there  has  been  conversa 
tion  he  has  missed,  and  looks  over  his  paper  to  MRS. 
LIVINGSTON^  Eh — what  is  it? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    The  Ford  girls,  dear. 

LIVINGSTON.    What  about  them? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  The  Camerons  are  calling  on 
them,  so  they  won't  be  able  to  come  over  tonight. 

LIVINGSTON.     Oh!     (Resuming  his  paper.) 

GRACE.    Did  you  see  my  library  book,  mother? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  In  your  case,  dear,  in  the 
drawer  I  put  it.  ^GRACE  crosses  to  music  cabinet  R., 
finds  the  book  and  crosses  down  R.  to  window  seat 
to  read.) 

(DR.  MYRON  ANDERSON  enters  down  stairway.  He 
stops  in  the  doorway  blinking  a  moment  ~  until 
his  eyes  become  accustomed  to  the  lights.) 

DOCTOR.  (In  door  up  c.)  Any  message  for  me, 
sister  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Not  a  thing,  Myron.  (DOCTOR 
comes  down  to  back  of  table.)  Get  any  rest? 

DOCTOR.  (Gets  cigar  from  "box  back  of  table  RV 
lights  it)  I  think  I  must  have  dozed  off.  (Crosses 
down  R.  to  front  of  table.)  What  time  is  it? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Consulting  small  watch 
which  she  has  pinned  on  her  breast)  Quarter  past 
eight. 

DOCTOR.  Well,  then,  I  must  have  had  about  an 
hour's  sleep.  (Sits  on  stool  front  of  table,  and 
writes  in  a  pocket  notebook.  GRACE,  finding  the 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  n 

light  bad  at  the  window,  throws  herself  on  sofa  R. 
of  table  R.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  You  need  it,  Myron — you've 
been  trying  to  do  too  much  lately. 

DOCTOR.  Well,  there's  a  lot  of  sickness  around 
just  now. 

LIVINGSTON.  (Reading  without  looking  up)  Jim 
Powell  is  sick. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Is  he — Jim  Powell?  What 
is  it,  Myron? 

DOCTOR.    Stomach ! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Serious? 

DOCTOR.     (Puts  book  in  pocket,  turns)     No! 

LIVINGSTON.     (Looking  up)     Eh,  what  is  it? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Stomach,  Myron  says. 

LIVINGSTON.     Serious  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    No,  dear. 

LIVINGSTON.     Oh ! 

DOCTOR.  (Turns  to  GRACE,  and  as  though  he  was 
now  fully  awake,  asks  in  a  livelier  key)  Where  are 
all  the  boys  tonight,  Grace? 

GRACE.    I  don't  know,  Uncle. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    They'll  be  here,  I  guess. 

GRACE.     I  don't  expect  anyone. 

DOCTOR.  You  won't  be  surprised,  though,  if  three 
or  four  show  up,  I  suppose?  (GRACE  gives  a  little 
laugh.) 

LIVINGSTON.  Young  Dick  Loring  is  leaving  town, 
Grace. 

GRACE.    Yes,  I  know. 

LIVINGSTON.  Huh?  (Turning  to  MRS.  LIV 
INGSTON.  ) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Grace  knows  about  it,  dear, 
but  it's  the  first  I've  heard.  What  does  it  say  ? 

LIVINGSTON.    Huh? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Read  it. 

LIVINGSTON.  (Reading  from  paper.  As  he  gets 
into  it  GRACE  puts  down  her  book  and  listens) 


12  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

"Friends  of  Richard  A.  Loring  will  be  pleased  to  hear 
of  his  association  with  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad 
as  a  construction  engineer.  While  they  will  regret 
his  departure  from  town,  they  will  be  anxious  to 
see  him  succeed  in  his  chosen  profession.  We 
understand  from  Richard  that  he  is  to  receive  a 
fine  remuneration." 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Well,  thank  goodness,  I  have 
a  daughter  and  not  a  son ! 

DOCTOR.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  have  a  son,  too, 
sister  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  No.  Boys  grow  up  and  leave 
home. 

DOCTOR.    Well,  girls  do,  too. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Laughing  confidently)  My 
girl  won't,  will  you,  Grace  ? 

GRACE.     I  haven't  decided  yet,  mother. 

DOCTOR.  You  won't  have  much  chance  to  leave 
home,  though,  if  you  don't  hurry  up  and  grab  one 
of  these  boys.  (Puts  his  hand  on  GRACE'S  shoulder.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Don't  get  that  notion  in  her 
head,  Myron.  There's  no  need  for  her  to  hurry — 
she's  young  yet. 

GRACE.    I'm  twenty. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I  wasn't  married  until  I  was 
more  than  that. 

DOCTOR.  Well,  there  was  a  reason  in  your  case, 
sister.  The  town  we  lived  in  was  so  small  it  was 
hard  for  any  young  fellow  to  find  it. 

LIVINGSTON.  (To  DOCTOR)  Eh — what's  that — 
what's  hard  to  find? 

DOCTOR.  (With  good  natured  firmness)  I  am 
not  going  all  over  that  again. 

LIVINGSTON.  (To  MRS.  LIVINGSTON,)  What  is 
it? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  We  were  talking  about  sons 
and  daughters,  Fred,  and  saying  how  much  more 
likely  a  boy  is  to  leave  home  than  a  girl. 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  13 

LIVINGSTON.     Oh!     (Goes  back  to  paper.) 

DOCTOR.  (Takes  arm  away)  You  wouldn't  be 
able  to  get  Jim  Powell  to  agree  with  you,  sister !  He 
has  three  sons  who  are  patermaniacs. 

GRACE.    What  are  patermaniacs? 

DOCTOR.  .  They  love  their  father  so  much  they 
won't  leave  him  even  to  go  to  work. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Well,  of  course,  if  I  had  a 
son  he  probably  wouldn't  be  like  Jim  Powell's.  He'd 
be  -going  off  to  be  a  soldier  or  sailor  or  something 
to  shorten  my  days.  No,  I'm  satisfied  I  have  a  girl, 
and  I'm  more  satisfied  to  have  her  stay  where  she  is. 

DOCTOR.  (Rises,  goes  up  c.  to  mantel,  gets  strip 
of  paper  from  medical  journal,  patches  his  cigar) 
You  mothers  are  all  alike.  You  don't  want  to  lose 
them,  and  yet  your  great  ambition  is  to  see  them 
married  and  in  a  home  of  their  own. 

LIVINGSTON.  (Watching  the  DOCTOR  go  up)  Eh, 
what's  it  all  about  ?  Who's  going  to  get  married  ? 

GRACE.  (Shutting  her  book  with  plenty  of  de 
cision)  I  am !  (They  all  turn  and  look  at  GRACED 

LIVI  N  GSTO  N  .    Huh  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Grace! 

GRACE.  (Embarrassed  for  a  moment,  then  recov 
ering  herself)  Well,  I  hope  I  am !  ^DOCTOR  sits  in 
arm-chair  up  c.  at  fireplace,  reads  Medical  Journal.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     (Relieved)     Oh! 

GRACE.  And  when  I  do — I  mean,  if  I  do,  I've  got 
it  all  planned.  (Gets  up  and  kneels  on  sofa.)  I'd 
just  have  a  very  quiet  wedding,  and  then  I'd  have 
a  honeymoon — some  place — (dreamily) — it  doesn't 
matter  much  where  you  go  on  your  honeymoon. 
And  then  I'd  want  a  home  of  my  own,  but  the  last 
place  I'd  want  it  is  here  in  Reading! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Reproachfully)  You  mean 
you'd  want  to  go  away — where  you  wouldn't  be  near 
me? 


14  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

GRACE.  Why  not?  You  did.  (Puts  book  on 
table,  goes  R.  to  door.) 

DOCTOR.    That's  what  she  did,  Grace. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    It  was  different  in  my  case. 

GRACE.    Why  was  it? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  We  didn't  have  much  money 
in  our  family.  And  I  know  very  well  my  father  was 
glad  to  get  rid  of  me. 

LIVINGSTON.  I  was  always  popular  with  your 
father.  I  never  quite  realized  why  until  you  told 
me.  (Resumes  reading.  MRS.  LIVINGSTON  puts 
knitting  in  L.  side  pocket  of  chair.) 

DOCTOR.  (Coming  down  L.  side  of  MRS.  LIVING 
STON,)  Sister,  what  would  you  do  if  Grace  told  you 
— without  any  warning — that's  the  way  you  told 
mother — that  she  and  Dick  Loring  were  to  be  mar 
ried  and  were  leaving  for  the  West  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Looks  at  DOCTOR;  rises  and 
crosses  to  GRACE )  Grace,  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me 
you  have  any  such  plan? 

DOCTOR.  (Crosses  back  of  table  between  them  at 
R.J  Grace  isn't  telling  you  at  all,  sister — I  was  ask 
ing  you  what  you'd  do  in  case  she  told  you;  would 
it  upset  you? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     You  know  it  would. 

DOCTOR.  You  see  what  a  commotion  it  is  going  to 
cause  sometime,  Grace.  I'd  hate  to  be  the  one  to  ask 
your  mother's  consent.  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea 
what  Grace's  plans  are,  sister,  I  was  just  wondering 
what  you'd  say.  (As  he  crosses  back  to  his  seat  at 
the  fireside.  Sits.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Well,  then,  you  shouldn't  say 
those  things  to  me,  Myron.  I  thought  Grace  had 
really  something  to  confess. 

GRACE.  Confess!  Why,  marrying  isn't  a  crime, 
is  it? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  There  isn't  any  truth  in  it,  is 
there,  Grace? 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  15 

GRACE.  I  tell  you  what  you  do,  mother,  you 
answer  uncle's  question  first.  I'd  like  to  know  what 
you'd  say! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I'll  not  answer  any  such  thing 
— I  don't  even  want  to  think  of  it!  (Crosses  up 
back  of  table  and  back  to  her  chair.) 

GRACE.  Well,  you  don't  want  me  to  be  an  old 
maid,  do  you?  (Sits  on  sofa  R.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I  wouldn't  care  if  you  were. 
(Sits  cv  gets  out  knitting.)  Your  father  is  able  to 
support  you.  And  anyway,  Dick  Loring  is  the  last 
boy  I'd  want  to  see  you  married  to!  He's  always 
been  a  wild,  straying  sort — he  wouldn't  be  my  choice. 

GRACE.  Well,  I  don't  know  that  father  would 
have  been  mine. 

LIVINGSTON.    Huh  ? 

GRACE.  Well,  not  from  the  tintypes  I've  seen 
of  you,  Dad. 

LIVINGSTON.    Why,  what's  the  matter  with  them? 

GRACE.  Well,  you  dress  better  now  than  you  did 
then,  I'll  say  that  for  you.  (Crosses  back  of  table 
between  MR.  and  MRS.  LIVINGSTON. )  Being  an  old 
maid  might  suit  you,  mother,  but  it's  never  been  my 
idea.  I  don't  want  father  to  go  on  supporting  me 
all  my  life. 

LIVINGSTON.    Me  either. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  You  want  to  work  for  your 
living  ? 

GRACE.  Not  one  little  bit.  I  want  to  be  sup 
ported,  and  I  want  to  be  a  help  to  the  man  who  sup 
ports  me,  and  I  want  to  have  children,  and  plan 
futures  and  arrange  marriages  for  them — (Crosses 
back  of  MRS.  LIVINGSTON  to  L.  of  her) — brave, 
handsome  men  for  my  girls,  and  beautiful,  good 
women  for  my  boys ! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Grace,  do  be  modest! 

DOCTOR.  (Rises,  puts  magazine  on  mantel,  cross- 
es  down  to  GRACED  You  go  right  ahead,  Grace,  and 


i6  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

have  children — have  plenty  of  them.  (Embraces 
her.)  There  is  less  danger  of  spoiling  them  then. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I  don't  know  what  you  are 
trying  to  get  at,  Myron,  but  if  it's  to  upset  me,  you 
are  doing  very  well.  ( GRACE  goes  up  to  piano  stool 
and  sits.) 

DOCTOR.  I  am  not  trying  to  upset  you,  sister. 
You  are  not  a  bit  different  from  any  other  mother. 
You  worry  about  Grace  all  you  want,  but  when  the 
time  comes  for  her  to  make  a  choice,  let  her  follow 
her  own  dictates,  and  then — go  on  worrying  ahout 
Her  just  the  same.  (^DOCTOR  sits  on  settee  L.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Looks  at  DOCTOR,  then  at 
GRACED  Well,  if  Grace  met  some  nice  boy  I 
wouldn't  object  to  her  marrying,  if  she'd  settle  down 
here.  It  would  be  much  better  for  Grace  anyway. 
She'd  be  where  I  could  keep  her  company  and  watch 
over  her  and  advise  her. 

GRACE.  But  where  would  be  the  adventure — the 
romance  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Oh,  you  want  romance,  now? 

GRACE.     I  always  have ! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Well,  you  won't  pr?t  much  with 
eight  or  ten  children.  ('GRACE  puts  book  on  table  i..) 
Why,  Myron,  Grace  isn't  even  old  enough  to  make 
up  her  mind  what  she  wants. 

DOCTOR.     Of  course  not. 

GRACE.  (Comes  down  L.,  sits  L.  of  DOCTOR)  You 
think  I  am  not? 

DOCTOR.  Gracie,  I  know  you  are  not.  Even  after 
you're  married,  you  will  not  have  your  mind  made 
up  fully. 

GRACE.    Oh,  you  are  joking  now ! 

DOCTOR.  Am  I?  Ask  your  mother  when  she 
finally  made  up  her  mind  about  your  father. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    What  about  him? 

DOCTOR.  Well — that  you  had  made  a  good  selec 
tion. 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  17 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    I  always  thought  so. 

DOCTOR.  No,  you  didn't!  (Rises.)  I  know — 
(Counts  on  his  fingers) — three  times  when  you  were 
positive  you  had  made  a  big  mistake — (rises,  goes  to 
her) — and  one  time  you  were  on  the  point  of 
separating. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  No!  ( GRACE  looks  back  of 
MRS.  LIVINGSTON  to  MR.  LIVINGSTON.^) 

DOCTOR.  Don't  tell  me  that,  I  know !  Am  I  right 
or  wrong,  Fred?  (Going  back  of  MRS.  LIVINGSTON 
to  LIVINGSTON.; 

LIVINGSTON.  (Turns  to  them,  asks  MRS.  LIVING 
STON;  Eh;  what's  that? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Myron  says  that  when  we 
were  first  married  we  were  on  the  point  of  sepa 
rating. 

LIVINGSTON.    Oh — well,  why  recall  it? 

DOCTOR.     I  am  trying  to  prove  something. 

LIVINGSTON.  Well,  there  was  a  time  when  it  did 
look  as  though  we'd  never  get  through  the  summer. 

DOCTOR.     (Crosses  to  c.)     I  should  say  it  did ! 

GRACE.     (Incredulously)     Not  those  two? 

DOCTOR.    (Crosses  to  GRACE J    Even  those  two. 

GRACE.     I  can't  believe  it! 

DOCTOR.  And  I'll  bet  your  mother  can't  tell  you 
the  reason  now — doesn't  remember! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Yes,  I  do,  perfectly. 

GRACE.  (Rising  and  crossing  to  her  mother) 
What  was  it?  (^DOCTOR  crosses  down  L.cJ 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Trying  to  evade  an  answer) 
Just  a  foolish  thing— if  I'd  have  had  a  little  more 
sense  it  never  would  have  happened ! 

GRACE.  (Still  insistent)  But  what  was  it? 
(Pause.) 

DOCTOR.     Grace 

GRACE.    Yes?    (Crosses  to  DOCTOR.,) 

DOCTOR.  Does  your  father  ever  get  on  your 
nerves  ? 


18  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

GRACE.    No ! 

DOCTOR.     Never  ? 

GRACE.    You  mean  annoy  me? 

DOCTOR.     Yes. 

LIVINGSTON.    Eh — what  is  it? 

GRACE.  (Almost  annoyed  at  the  interruption) 
Nothing,  dad.  I  wish  he  wouldn't  do  that,  when  a 
thing  has  been  settled,  to  ask  mother  to  go  all  over 
it  again.  (Sits  on  settee,  L.j 

DOCTOR.  (Crosses  c.  to  MRS.  LIVINGSTON,  with 
a  chuckle)  Isn't  that  strange,  sister? 

GRACE.    What  is,  uncle? 

DOCTOR.    That's  the  very  thing  that  did  it. 

GRACE.    Not  really? 

DOCTOR.  ("MRS.  LIVINGSTON  is  knitting  furiously) 
Yes.  That  habit  of  his— "Huh,  eh,  what's  that?"— 
led  to  an  argument  that  almost  caused  a  separation. 

GRACE.  And  now  half  the  time  mother  repeats 
things  for  dad  before  he  has  a  chance  to  ask. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  What  are  you  trying  to  prove 
by  all  this,  Myron? 

DOCTOR.  That  you  were  right  when  you  said 
Grace  is  not  old  enough  to  make  up  her  mind,  and 
she  won't  be  until  she  is  an  old  married  woman — 
at  least  a  year  old. 

GRACE.  Well,  how  is  a  girl  going  to  know  if  her 
choice  is  right  when  she  says  "yes"  to  a  man? 

DOCTOR.  She  can't !  All  she  can  do  is  hope.  And, 
oh  Lord,  how  she  has  got  to  hope.  She 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Is  there  one  thing  in  the  world, 
Myron,  that  you  haven't  used  as  a  subject  for  an 
evening  lecture  here? 

DOCTOR.  No,  I  think  I  have  exhausted  about 
everything ! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I  know  you  have  exhausted 
me  many  nights.  It  wouldn't  be  so  bad  if  you'd 
keep  to  topics  that  you  know  something  about,  but 
when  you,  a  confirmed  bachelor,  get  on  the  subject 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  19 

of  marriage,  I  should  say  you  were  about  the  poor 
est  authority  in  the  world. 

DOCTOR.  Not  at  all !  I've  never  had  yellow  fever, 
and  yet  I  can  diagnose  it.  It's  the  same  with  mar 
riage.  I've  studied  it — I  know  the  symptoms — the 
suffering — the  treatment — and  the  cure! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Why  don't  you  write  a  book 
on  it?  (Disgustedly  puts  away  knitting.) 

DOCTOR.  It  doesn't  need  a  book — only  two  words 
— love  and  forgive. 

GRACE.  Must  the  girl  forgive  the  man  she  mar 
ries  a  lot? 

DOCTOR.  Oh,  indeed,  she  must.  If  you  feel  you 
can't  forgive  a  man  at  least  three  times  a  week,  Grace 
— never  marry!  And  I  want  to  see  you  married — 
whether  you  live  here  or  in  Siberia. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Rises)  That's  fine  advice  to 
give  a  young  girl,  I  must  say,  Myron.  (Crossing 
L.)  Goodness  knows,  if  you  weren't  my  brother  I'd 
never  recommend  you  as  a  doctor !  (Exits  L. ) 

GRACE.  (Takes  DOCTOR'S  hand,  seats  him  beside 
her)  Uncle ! 

DOCTOR.     Yes  ? 

GRACE.  (Stops  abruptly)  Wait  a  moment. 
(Rises,  crosses  R.  to  MR.  LIVINGSTON. )  Father — 
oh,  father !  ("LIVINGSTON  has  fallen  asleep.  GRACE 
watches  him  carefully.)  It's  all  right.  ( Crosses  and 
sits^R.  of  settee  with  DOCTOR,  who  has  moved  to  L. 
of  it.)  Uncle,  did  you  really  mean  that  a  girl  can't 
know  about  a  man  until  long  after  she's  married? 

DOCTOR.     I  certainly  did ! 

GRACE.    Oh,  dear! 

DOCTOR.  (Thinks  for  a  moment)  Why,  who 
is  it? 

GRACE.    Who's  who? 

DOCTOR.    The  boy  you  have  in  mind ! 

GRACE.  (Looks  at  him  for  a  second,  pauses) 
Well,  there  are  two  of  them. 


20  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

DOCTOR.  Two!  You  are  not  as  slow  as  your 
mother  thinks  you  are.  Which  are  they? 

GRACE.     One  is  Dick  Loring. 

DOCTOR.    Ah,  ha!    And  the  other? 

GRACE.    Tommy  Tucker. 

DOCTOR.    (Surprised)    Tommy !    Is  that  so  ? 

GRACE.     Are  you  surprised  ? 

DOCTOR.  No.  I  rather  thought  after  seeing  them 
here  night  after  night,  it  would  narrow  down  to  those 
two. 

GRACE.    Uncle,  which  would  you  pick  ? 

DOCTOR.    They  have  both  asked  you  ? 

GRACE.  Dick  has,  heaps  of  times.  Tommy  hasn't. 
I  don't  believe  Tommy  ever  would  ask  me — first.  He 
is  the  kind  who  would  go  to  mother  and  dad  and  ask 
them  if  he  could  ask  me. 

DOCTOR.     You  know  I  rather  favor  that  method. 

GRACE.  Well,  I  don't,  and  if  Tommy  ever  did 
that,  I  wouldn't  have  him  under  any  circumstances. 

DOCTOR.    And  would  that  make  you  prefer  Dick  ? 

GRACE.  Well,  Dick  is  a  dear.  He's  more  roman 
tic  than  any  boy  in  town.  He's  terribly  good  look 
ing  too,  don't  you  think? 

DOCTOR.  Yes,  to  the  feminine  eye,  I  guess  he 
must  be. 

GRACE.  And  it's  nice  to  have  a  sfood-looking  hus 
band.  (Rises,  gets  R.  of  settee.)  But  I  like  Tommy, 
too.  He's  so  dependable  and  obliging.  Of  course, 
Tommy  isn't  good  looking. 

DOCTOR.  No,  you'd  never  be  jealous  over  Tommy. 
But  that  ought  to  be  a  comfortable  feeling  for  a 
woman. 

GRACE.  I  don't  know  about  that.  If  I  liked  Tom 
my,  why  shouldn't  some  other  girl?  Of  course,  I 
don't  think  Tommy  would  flirt,  and  Dick  is  a  terri 
ble  flirt.  That's  what  makes  him  so  romantic.  Tom 
my  isn't  romantic  at  all.  Somehow  I  can't  make  up 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  21 

my  mind  about  them.  (Sits  on  settee  again.)  Uncle, 
what's  your  opinion? 

DOCTOR.  (Puts  arm  around  her)  Well,  I'll  tell 
you.  I  set  Dick's  leg-  once  when  he  had  it  broken  at 
football,  and  I  could  have  wished  he  was  my  own 
son  the  way  he  took  it.  I  hurt  him,  too!  Tommy? 
I  brought  Tommy  into  the  world — his  folks  were 
two  of  my  dearest  friends,  and — well,  I  wish  he  had 
been  my  son,  too.  And  there  you  are! 

GRACE.     You're  not  much  help ! 

DOCTOR.  (Rises)  No  one  could  be,  Grace. 
There's  only  one  way  for  you  to  find  out. 

GRACE.     (Rises)     What? 

DOCTOR.  (Indicating  her  heart)  That — the  lov 
ers'  bureau  of  information.  (The  doorbell  rings, 
and  LIVINGSTON  wakes  with  a  start  and  looks  around 
in  a  bewildered  way.) 

LIVINGSTON.    Eh — what? 

GRACE.  (Crosses  up  R.,  looking  off  c.)  The  door 
bell! 

LIVINGSTON.    Oh,  who  is  it? 

GRACE.  We  don't  know  yet.  (Turns  and  looks  at 
Doctor.) 

LIVINGSTON.  Oh!  (As  GRACE  starts  up,  MRS. 
LIVINGSTON  enters  and  crosses  to  door  up  c.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     I'll  go,  Grace.     (Exits.) 

GRACE.  (Crosses  L.  to  DOCTOR)  It  must  be  Dick. 
Mother  is  going. 

LIVINGSTON.     (Stretching)    Aha ! 

GRACE.  (Crosses  down  L.,  gets  back  from  table 
Lj  Father'll  start  to  wake  up  now. 

DOCTOR.  Yes,  but  only  long  enough  to  go  to  bed. 
(Goes  up  to  mantel.  MRS.  LIVINGSTON  enters.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (To  GRACE)  It's  Dick! 
(Crosses  down  to  LIVINGSTON  and  sits  c.)  It's  Dick 
Loring.  (DICK  LORING  enters,  crosses  down  c.  to 
MR.  and  MRS.  LIVINGSTON,  then  the  DOCTOR.  He 


22  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

is  a  good-looking,  dark  boy  about  twenty-three  or 
twenty-four,  strong  and  athletic  looking.) 

DICK.     Good  evening! 

LIVINGSTON.    How  are  you,  Dick? 

DICK.    Good  evening,  Doctor. 

DOCTOR.    Hello,  Dick !    (Goes  up  L.J 

DICK.    (Goes  to  GRACE)     Hello,  Grace. 

GRACE.    Hello,  Dick.     (Sits  on  L.  of  settee.) 

LIVINGSTON.  We  have  been  reading  about  you 
tonight,  Dick.  (MRS.  LIVINGSTON  keeps  her  eye  on 
DICK  all  the  time,  as  though  she  didn't  trust  him  even 
in  her  sight.) 

DICK.     Yes? 

LIVINGSTON.  That's  right,  is  it,  that  you  are  go 
ing  away  ? 

DICK.    Yes,  sir,  it's  all  settled. 

DOCTOR.  (Up  L.cJ  How  soon  are  you  leaving, 
Dick? 

DICK.    In  another  week. 

DOCTOR.    Where  are  they  sending  you? 

DICK.     I'm  not  sure,  yet. 

LIVINGSTON.     Eh — what's  that? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  He  doesn't  know  where  he's 
going.  (Seated  c.) 

LIVINGSTON.     Is  that  so? 

DICK.    I  don't  care  much  so  long  as  I  get  away. 

DOCTOR.  (Up  L.C.,  sitting  at  fireplace)  Tired  of 
us  here? 

DICK.  (Sits  with  GRACE)  Oh,  no.  There  are 
some  I'll  hate  to  leave,  but  there  are  some  I  won't 
miss  so  much.  I  think,  though,  it's  a  good  thing  to 
get  away.  There  isn't  anything  for  me  here  in  this 
town. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Well,  you  mustn't  get  too  rest 
less,  Richard.  You  know  what  they  say  about  roll 
ing  stones. 

DICK.  A  fellow  has  to  do  a  little  rolling,  Mrs. 
Livingston,  to  find  a  good  place  to  stop.  There's  a 


THE  FIRST   YEAR  23 

whole  lot  of  fellows  who'd  have  done  better  if  they 
had  rolled  away  from  this  village. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Why,  I  think  most  of  the  boys 
we  know  are  doing  very  nicely.  Now,  you  take  Na 
than  Allen,  helping  his  father  in  the  store.  Mr. 
Allen  told  me  he  didn't  know  what  he  would  do 
without  Nathan. 

GRACE.  That's  all  right  for  his  father,  but  I  don't 
see  where  it  is  helping  Nate  much.  I  think  Nate  is 
terribly  stupid,  anyway. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Grace! 

GRACE.  Well,  I  do.  If  we  didn't  have  weather  I 
don't  know  what  he'd  do  for  something  to  talk  about. 

DOCTOR.     What  about  Tommy  Tucker? 

DICK.    Oh,  well,  er — Tommy 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I  won't  have  you  say  anything 
about  Tommy !  I  wouldn't  care  if  he'd  never  been 
off  Main  Street  all  his  life — Tommy  is  a  nice  boy ! 

DICK.  Oh,  I  don't  mean  to  say  that  any  of  them 
are  not,  Mrs.  Livingston.  But  Tommy  is  in  the  class 
with  the  rest.  How  is  a  fellow  to  do  anything  in 
the  real  estate  business  in  this  town?  There  isn't 
anybody  moving  into  the  place,  and  the  people  here 
wouldn't  sell  anything  they  had,  anyway.  Tommy 
is  wasting  his  time  here,  and  I've  told  him  so. 

DOCTOR.    Tommy  seems  to  be  satisfied. 

DICK.    That's  just  it,  Doctor— they're  all  satisfied. 

GRACE.    And  they  are  all  dull — deadly  dull. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I  won't  let  you  call  Tommy 
dull! 

GRACE.  No,  Tommy  isn't,  but  real  estate  isn't  a 
very  romantic  business. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Neither  is  any  other. 

GRACE.    Dick's  is. 

DICK.  Yes,  it  is  romantic,  Grace — it's  a  battle  all 
the  time.  To  fight  against  the  elements — that's  the 
biggest  opposition  in  the  world.  When  you  dam  a 
river 


24  THE    FIRST  YEAR 

LIVINGSTON.    Er!     What  did  he  say? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Dam  a  river. 

LIVINGSTON.    Why? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Dick  was  saying 

GRACE.     Oh,  tell  him  later,  mother.     Yes,  Dick? 

DICK.  Or  tunnel  a  mountain,  or  throw  a  bridge 
across  a  chasm,  you  feel  as  though  you  had  done 
something. 

GRACE.  It  must  be  magnificent — and  you  are  go 
ing  to  do  all  these  things,  Dick? 

DICK.  I'll  have  to  do  all  these  things,  Grace. 
You  see,  I  expect  to  be  put  in  charge  of  a  surveying 
and  construction  camp.  I  am  not  certain  about  the 
location  yet,  but  it's  out  in  the  wilds  somewhere. 

GRACE.    Oh,  won't  that  be  thrilling ! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Fiddlesticks  !  (Not  liking  the 
trend  of  the  conversation.) 

GRACE.  (Dreamily)  Oh,  mother!  To  sleep  out 
under  the  trees,  to  look  up  at  the  stars,  and  in  the 
distance 

DICK.  fLattfjhs)  Oh,  no,  Grace,  there  won't  be 
anything  like  that !  I  exnect  my  quarters  to  be  quite 
comfortable.  Whv,  some  of  the  engineers  even  brin? 
their  wives  p!or«£.  (MRS.  LIVINGSTON  notes  this.) 

GRACE.     I'd  love  it ! 

DICK.     You  would? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    It's  no  place  for  a  woman ! 

GRACE.  How  do  you  know,  mother — you  have 
never  been  in  one  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Neither  has  Dick.  My  broth 
ers  used  to  have  a  camp,  and  they  thought  it  was  the 
greatest  place  in  the  world  just  because  they  could 
be  dirty  and  sleep  in  blankets.  And  I  guess  one 
camp  is  pretty  much  like  another.  (Door-bell  rings. 
DOCTOR  rises,  comes  down  L.  DICK  rises,  noes  to 
DOCTOR.  DOCTOR  gets  front  of  DICK  so  TOMMY 
can't  see  DICK  when  he  comes  down  c.) 


THE  FIRST   YEAR  25 

GRACE.  I  guess  that  is  Tommy.  Mother— I'll  go. 
(Goes  front  of  DICK  and  up  c.,  exits.) 

MRS'.  LIVINGSTON.  Grace  is  getting  almost  impos 
sible. 

LIVINGSTON.    Almost  what? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Impossible. 

LIVINGSTON.     Who? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     Grace ! 

LIVINGSTON.    What's  she  been  doing? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Why,  she — haven't  you  been 
listening  ? 

LIVINGSTON.    To  what  ?      (Door  slams  off.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Well,  she 

LIVINGSTON.    You  tell  me  later.    Who's  calling? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Tommy,  I  think.  (GRACE  en 
ters  with  box  of  candy.)  Was  it  Tommy,  Grace? 

GRACE.  Yes,  mother.  (Goes  to  fireplace,  throws 
paper  in  it.) 

(TOMMY  TUCKER  follows  GRACE  on  closely.  He  is 
quiet,  shy  and  adoring;  follows  GRACE  with  his 
eyes  all  the  time.  He  comes  between  MR.  and 
MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  GRACE  crosses  L.J 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Good  evening,  Tommy. 
TOMMY.     Good  evening,   Mrs.   Livingston — Mr. 
Livingston.     Hello,  Doctor. 

DOCTOR.    Hello,  Tommy !    (Crosses  up  c.) 

(There  is  a  marked  difference  in  TOMMY'S  greet 
ing  for  the  parents  and  for  the  DOCTOR.  To  the 
former  he  is  respectfully  cordial,  but  to  the  lat 
ter  he  is  almost  filial.  The  DOCTOR  has  almost 
the  same  worship  for  him  that  TOMMY  has  for 
GRACED 

TOMMY.     (Sees  LORING,  and  shows  at  once  the 
rivalry  he  feels)     Hello,  Dick ! 


26  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

DICK.  Hello,  Tommy !  (He  has  a  mild  contempt 
for  TOMMY.J 

GRACE.  (Has  opened  the  box  of  candy  and  has 
offered  her  mother  some,  and  now  extends  the  box 
to  DICK)  Have  some  candy?  (TOMMY  steps  for- 
ward.) 

DICK.  (Crosses  to  GRACE)  Ah Oh,  local 

goods ! 

TOMMY.  Yes.  Brewer  has  the  best  in  town,  I 
guess. 

DICK.    (Crosses  up  c.)    In  town — yes ! 

TOMMY.  (Crosses  down  L.  to  GRACE)  I'd  have 
run  up  to  Chi  and  gotten  better,  Grace,  but  I  didn't 
think  I  could  get  a  train  to  get  me  back  tonight. 

GRACE.     I  like  this,  Tommy. 

TOMMY.    You  do,  eh? 

GRACE.     Yes,  indeed! 

TOMMY.  Well,  you  are  the  one  I  got  it  for.  (He 
turns  and  grins  at  DICK,  who  is  down  c.  DOCTOR 
smiles  and  turns  up  stage.) 

LIVINGSTON.  (Rising)  How  about  a  rubber  of 
bridge?  I'd  just  like  something  to  wake  me  up. 
What  do  you  say,  Dick  ? 

DICK.    (Crosses  R.  to  LIVINGSTON)     I'd  like  to — 

TOMMY.  (To  GRACE)  There'll  be  just  four  with 
out  us. 

DICK.  But  I  can't  tonight.  I  can  only  stay  a 
little  while. 

(MRS.  LIVINGSTON  disposes  of  her  knitting,  goes  out, 
gets  card  table  and  brings  it  in.  DICK  goes  R. 
to  couch.) 

LIVINGSTON.     How  about  you,  Myron? 

DOCTOR.  I'm  expecting  a  telephone  call — I'll  play 
until  I  get  it.  (Rises,  takes  MRS.  LIVINGSTON'S 
chair  and  moves  it  up  c.  MRS.  LIVINGSTON  gives 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  27 

him  card  table.  Crosses  R.  and  gets  cards  from 
drawer  in  table  R.) 

LIVINGSTON.  Somebody  can  take  your  hand  then. 
Will  you  play,  Tommy  ? 

TOMMY.     Why,  I 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Tommy  and  I  want  revenge 
for  the  last  beating  you  gave  us. 

DICK.     Grace. 

GRACE.  Yes,  Dick.  (She  crosses  around  up  c.  and 
to  couch.  DOCTOR  gets  chair  from  table  L.cv  puts  it 
front  of  card  table.  He  is  on  to  TOMMY'S  reluc 
tance  all  the  time  and  is  quietly  amused.) 

TOMMY.  (Crosses  to  DICK  R.)  Why  don't  you 
take  my  hand,  Dick?  You  play  better  than  I  do 
anyway. 

DICK.  No,  you  go  right  ahead,  Tommy,  I'd  rather 
sit  here  and  talk  to  Grace.  (GRACE  is  seated  on 
couch  down  stage,  DICK  above  her  and  TOMMY 
stands  L.  of  table.  By  this  time  everything  has  been 
pretty  well  arranged.) 

LIVINGSTON.  Shall  we  play  the  same  partners  as 
last  time?  (DOCTOR  gets  chair  from  down  L. — puts 
it  L.  of  card  table.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Certainly!  Tommy  and  I 
wouldn't  have  it  any  other  way. 

LIVINGSTON.  Cut  for  the  deal  and  choice  of  seats, 
then — (Looks  around) — Tommy ! 

TOMMY.  Yes,  sir!  Oh!  (Realising  they  are 
waiting  for  him  They  all  cut  the  cards.) 

LIVINGSTON.  You're  low,  mother.  Where  do  you 
want  to  sit? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Who  wants  to  keep  her  eye 
on  the  couple  on  the  sofa)  I'll  sit  here.  Face  me, 
Tommy.  (She  is  about  to  sit  L.  of  table.) 

TOMMY.  (Crosses  to  MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  He  also 
wishes  to  keep  his  eye  on  DICK  and  GRACEJ  Wouldn't 
you  rather  sit  here — Mrs.  Livingston?  (Takes  her 
chair  around  to  R.  of  card  table.)  The  light  is  better 


28  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

over  here,  I  think.  (LIVINGSTON  brings  chair  from 
desk  up  R.,  puts  it  back  of  card  table.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    I  can  see  better  here,  I  think. 

TOMMY.  (Takes  chair  back  around  back  of  LIV 
INGSTON  to  L.  of  card  table,  places  it  for  MRS.  LIV 
INGSTON.  Gets  stool  from  front  of  table  R.  GRACE 
laughs  at  something  DICK  has  said.  TOMMY  pauses 
a  second,  then  goes  to  card  table,  is  about  to  sit,  then 
has  another  idea.)  Don't  you  think  we  ought  to  take 
these  seats?  (Indicating  chairs  that  LIVINGSTON 
and  DOCTOR  are  sitting  on.)  These  were  the  lucky 
ones  last  time.  They  held  all  the  cards. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Well,  it's  time  for  the  luck  to 
turn  to  ours.  (Sits.  MRS.  LIVINGSTON  sits  on  the 
L.  of  table,  DOCTOR  with  his  back  to  the  audience, 
and  LIVINGSTON  facing  audience.  MRS.  LIVING 
STON  lets  the  DOCTOR  cut  the  cards  and  then  she 
deals.)  Don't  you  want  to  come  and  watch  us, 
Grace  ? 

GRACE.     No,  mother. 

TOMMY.  (Rising,  going  to  R.  of  c.)  Wouldn't  you 
like  to  play,  Grace  ?  I'd  much  rather  look  on. 

GRACE.  (Turns  to  face  TOMMY)  No,  thank  you, 
Tommy.  I'll  be  company  for  Dick.  I  want  to  hear 
all  about  his  plans,  because  he  won't  be  here  very 
much  longer.  (Turns  back  to  DICK.J 

TOMMY.  (At  table  R.,  his  face  brightens)  That's 
so — you  won't  be  here  very  much  longer,  will  you, 
Dick? 

DICK.  No,  Tommy,  I  won't,  so  you  see  I  have  to 
make  the  most  of  my  time. 

TOMMY.     Yes. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Cards,  Tommy !  (GRACE  and 
DICK  have  resumed  their  conversation  and  TOMMY 
watches  them — doesn't  hear  MRS.  LIVINGSTON  the 
first  time.)  Tommy — the  cards  are  all  dealt. 

TOMMY.  I  beg  your  pardon.  (Picks  up  his  hand 
and  sorts  it,  trying  hard  to  hear  what  is  being  said 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  29 

behind  him.  He  now  spies  a  looking-glass  on  the 
opposite  wall  which  reflects  the  room  behind  him.  It 
is  on  a  bit  of  an  angle,  so  he  has  to  lean  up  stage  to 
get  a  good  view  of  the  couple  behind  him.  LIVING 
STON  thinks  he  is  trying  to  see  his  hand  and  pulls  it 
away.  TOMMY  is  embarrassed.  He  sits,  then  rises 
again,  looks  in  the  mirror,  then  sits.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (After  a  little  deliberation)  I 
pass! 

DOCTOR.     A  heart! 

TOMMY.  (Looking  at  DICK  and  GRACE,  and  just 
conscious  it  is  his  turn  to  bid)  Pass ! 

LIVINGSTON.     Pass. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     No  trump ! 

LIVINGSTON.  (Exasperated)  Why  didn't  you  say 
that  in  the  first  place? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I  wanted  to  see  what  my  part 
ner  had. 

LIVINGSTON.  How  do  you  expect  him  to  have  any 
thing  if  vou  have  no  trump? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Defiantly)  What  do  you  do, 
Myron  ? 

DOCTOR.     Pass ! 

TOMMY.     (Looking  at  DICK  and  GRACE)     Pass! 

LIVINGSTON.    Two  hearts ! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Two  no  trumps. 

LIVINGSTON.  (Entirely  out  of  patience)  What 
kind  of  bidding-  do  you  call  that?  You  pass  first 
h?nd  and  now  you  are  up  to  two  no  trumps. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I  can  bid  my  hand  any  way  I 
like. 

LIVINGSTON.    And  you  are  doing  it. 

DOCTOR.     Pass. 

TOMMY.    (Still  watching  DICK  and  GRACE)    Pass. 

LIVINGSTON.    Pass ! 

DOCTOR.  Well,  there  you  are!  (Plays  card,  looks 
at  TOMMY,  attracts  his  attention  by  nudging  him.) 
Your  hand  goes  down,  Tommy. 


30  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

TOMMY.  Oh,  beg  your  pardon.  (Lays  down  his 
hand  and  again  turns  to  GRACE  and  DICK,  who  are 
deep  in  conversation.  After  a  pause,  as  though  he 
were  trying  to  think  of  something  to  say)  How  soon 
are  you  leaving,  Dick?  (DICK  and  GRACE  pay  no 
attention  to  him) — Dick ! 

DICK.   (Turns  to  TOMMY — he  is  annoyed)  What? 

TOMMY.     How  soon  are  you  leaving? 

DICK.  I  don't  know — I  have  got  to  be  home  early, 
though. 

TOMMY.     I  mean  for  good. 

DICK.    Oh,  in  about  a  week,  I  guess. 

TOMMY.  Oh,  not  for  a  week,  eh?  (Pause.) — 
Going  to  be  gone  long?  (GRACE  laughs.  There  is 
no  answer  from  DICK.  After  a  pause  changes  tac 
tics)  The  old  town  is  good  enough  for  us,  isn't  it, 
Grace? 

DICK.  (Turning  to  TOMMY,  rather  sarcastically) 
I  thought  you  were  playing  bridge  ? 

TOMMY.   (With  a  smile  of  triumph)   I'm  dummy ! 

DICK.  Why  can't  you  be  a  good  one?  (Turns 
back  to  GRACE.) 

GRACE.  (Turning  to  TOMMY,  sympathetically) 
What  was  it  you  asked  me,  Tommy  ? 

TOMMY.  I  said — the  old  town  was  good  enough 
for  us. 

GRACE.  Why,  it  may  be  for  you,  Tommy,  but  I'm 
like  Dick — I'll  be  glad  to  get  away. 

TOMMY.  (As  thought  struck)  You  don't  mean  to 
say  you're  going  away?  (MRS.  LIVINGSTON  puts 
cards  down,  having  completed  the  hand.) 

GRACE.    I  don't  know,  Tommy — I  may. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Referring  to  having  won  the 
hand)  What  do  you  think  of  that?  (DOCTOR  deals 
cards.) 

TOMMY.  (Thinking  only  of  what  GRACE  has  said) 
I  think  it  is  terrible ! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    To  make  a  small  slam? 


THE  FIRST   YEAR  31 

TOMMY.     Oh— eh? 

t  DOCTOR^  (Realizing  TOMMY  has  been  caught, 
picks'  up  line  for  him)  I  expected  you  to  make  a 
grand  one. 

LIVINGSTON.  That's  the  way  Emily  plays,  Myron. 
Passes  a  hand  first  time  good  enough  to  go  game  on. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Well,  if  I  had  known  Tommy 
had  all  those  spades  I'd  have  called  no  trumps  first 
time.  (Door-bell  rings.) 

LIVINGSTON.     Who's  that  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I  don't  know,  dear.  See  who 
it  is,  Grace. 

(GRACE  crosses  up  c.  and  exits.) 

DOCTOR.     It  may  be  for  me  ! 

LIVINGSTON.  Let's  get  on  with  this  hand.  (DICK 
walks  around  table,  looking  at  cards  each  player  holds 
— he  first  goes  back  of  LIVINGSTON.^ 

DOCTOR.     I  pass. 

TOMMY.     Pass. 

LIVINGSTON.     I  bid  three  spades. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Three  spades? 

LIVINGSTON.  That's  what  I  said— and  I'll  make 
them,  too. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Well,  I  haven't  given  it  to  you 
yet!  (DICK  crosses  down  back  of  MRS.  LiVING- 
STON.J 

LIVINGSTON.  All  right,  go  ahead— bid  !  I  can  go 
higher  if  I  am  pushed. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     I  pass. 

DOCTOR.     Pass.     (Dicx  goes  back  of  DOCTOR.) 

TOMMY.    Pass.     (MRS.  LIVINGSTON  plays.) 

LIVINGSTON.     Any  help,  Myron? 

DOCTOR.  Here  and  there  a  card.  (Spreading  his 
hand  on  table.) 


32  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

(GRACE  enters  and  comes  down  to  table  R.  of  LIV 
INGSTON,  speaking  to  him.) 

GRACE.    Oh,  dad,  it's  Mr.  Plimmer. 

LIVINGSTON.     Wants  to  see  me? 

GRACE.     Of  course. 

LIVINGSTON.     What's  he  want? 

GRACE.  I  didn't  ask  him.  (Goes  below  TOMMY 
and  talks  to  him  a  moment.  DICK  takes  her  by  the 
arm  and  they  start  out  up  R.J 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  You'd  better  go  out  and  see. 
But  talk  to  him  out  there.  If  you  ever  ask  him  in 
here  he'll  never  leave.  Grace  will  play  your  hand. 

LIVINGSTON.  (Rises,  crosses  up  c.,  taking  cards 
with  him)  No,  wait  until  I  come  back.  I  want  to 
play  this  hand  myself.  (Exits.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Where  are  you  going,  Grace  ? 

GRACE.  Out  on  the  porch.  (DOCTOR  swings  chair, 
faces  R.)  I'm  simply  burning  up  in  here.  (She  and 
DICK  exit,  TOMMY  following  them  with  his  eyes.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Rises,  crosses  up  to  window 
R.J  I  wish  she  wouldn't  do  that. 

DOCTOR.  What  a  glorious  night.  (TOMMY  heaves 
a  deep  sigh.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  W7hy  don't  you  stay  in  here 
and  play  something  for  us,  Grace  ?  Tommy  will  sing. 

TOMMY.  (Rises)  God,  no!  Please,  please,  Mrs. 
Livingston !  I  don't  feel  like  singing  tonight.  (He 
comes  down,  -front  to  R.J 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  What's  the  matter,  Tommy, 
don't  you  feel  well  ? 

TOMMY.  No,  ma'am — I've  a  headache — had  it  all 
day. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I'm  sorry,  Tommy.  Can't  you 
give  him  something,  Myron?  (Crossing  to  DOCTOR.) 

DOCTOR.  (TOMMY  turns  to  watch  GRACE  and 
DICK)  I  think  so.  Get  me  a  glass  of  water,  sister. 
You  should  have  some  aspirin  in  the  house. 


THE  FIRST  YEAR  33 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Crosses  to  L  J  They'll  be  in 
Fred's  little  table  if  they're  any  place.  (Exits  L.J 

TOMMY.     I'll  be  all  right,  Doctor. 

DOCTOR.  Well,  aspirin  won't  hurt  you,  Tommy, 
whether  you  have  a  headache  or  not.  (TOMMY, 
stealing,  looks  out  window.  DOCTOR  rises,  goes  to 
TOMMY.)  What  sort  of  a  pain  is  it,  Tommy,  dull — 
heavy? 

TOMMY.    Yes,  sir. 

DOCTOR.  Ah,  yes,  stomach,  probably.  (GRACE 
and  DICK,  arm  in  arm,  pass  window  R.  and  then  out 
of  sight') 

TOMMY.  I  guess  so,  sir.  (Looking  off  R.,  then 
turning  to  DOCTOR.)  Doctor,  has  Grace  said  any 
thing  to  you  about  going  away  ? 

DOCTOR.     No.     Is  she? 

TOMMY.    She  just  told  me  just  now  she  might. 

DOCTOR.    (Goes  up  R.c.J    Humph ! 

TOMMY.  (Watching  DOCTOR,  and  getting  L.  of 
c.)  What  is  it,  Doctor  ? 

DOCTOR.  (Coming  down  R.  of  c.)  She  may  mean 
that,  Tommy.  I  think  Dick  is  trying  to  induce  her 
to  go  away  with  him  now. 

TOMMY.    Yes? 

DOCTOR.    Yes. 

TOMMY.  (Crossing  R.,  looking  out  window)  Yes, 
I  thought  of  sort — sort  of  thought  so,  myself. 

DOCTOR.     Grace  likes  Dick. 

TOMMY.     Yes,  I  think  she  does. 

DOCTOR.  He's  the  style  that  appeals  to  the  girls, 
Tommy,  not  fellows  like  us. 

TOMMY.  (Turning  to  DOCTOR,  and  mentally  com 
paring  himself  with  him)  Us? 

DOCTOR.  Yes,  us.  We're  alike,  I  think.  (Enter 
MRS.  LIVINGSTON.)  We're  quiet,  matter-of-fact  sort 
of  men — no  romance  about  us,  is  there? 

TOMMY.     No,  sir. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    There  you  are,  Myron — now 


34  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

I'll  find  the  tablets.  (Puts  glass  of  -water  on  card 
table,  then  crosses  up  c.) 

TOMMY.  Please  don't  bother,  Mrs.  Livingston. 
(Going  up  R.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Bother?  Don't  be  silly,  Tom 
my.  (Exits  up  c.) 

TOMMY.  (Coming  down  R.  to  front  of  table  R.j 
You  know,  Doctor,  I  think  you're  all  wrong  about 
me. 

DOCTOR.     How  so,  Tommy  ? 

TOMMY.    I  am  romantic! 

DOCTOR.     You  are  ? 

TOMMY.    Yes,  sir — more  than  you'd  suspect. 

DOCTOR.  Is  that  so  ?  Why,  I'd  about  made  up  my 
mind  you  were  going  to  be  an  old  bachelor — like 
me,  Tommy. 

TOMMY.     I  hope  not. 

DOCTOR.     Huh  ? 

TOMMY.  What  I  mean  is  I'd  like  to  get  married 
sometime. 

DOCTOR.  Did  you  have  a  girl  in  mind  that  you 
wanted  to  marry  ? 

TOMMY.  (Looking  out  window)  Yes,  sir — I 
have. 

DOCTOR.     Oh,  you  did,  eh? 

TOMMY.  (Turning  to  DOCTOR)  No — not  did, 
have !  I've  got  her  in  mind  now.  That's  as  near  as 
I'll  ever  get  her,  I  guess. 

DOCTOR.    Why,  who  is  she  ? 

TOMMY.    Are  you  making  fun  of  me,  Doctor? 

DOCTOR.    You  don't  mean  Grace ! 

TOMMY.  I  haven't  been  coming  here  night  after 
night  to  see  Mrs.  Livingston. 

DOCTOR.     Well,  has  Grace  refused  you  ? 

TOMMY.     (Doubtfully)     I've  never  asked  her. 

DOCTOR.  Well,  what  are  you  waiting  for?  She 
can't  say  yes  if  you  don't  ask  her. 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  35 

TOMMY.  (Indicating  DICK  and  GRACE,  out  win 
dow  R.)  I'm  afraid  it's  too  late  now. 

DOCTOR.  That's  no  way  to  talk — try  it  and  find 
out! 

TOMMY.  (Turning  to  DOCTOR)  All  right,  Doc 
tor,  I  will!  I'll  speak  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Livingston 
tonight. 

DOCTOR.    Good  Lord,  no — speak  to  Grace! 

TOMMY.    To  Grace? 

DOCTOR.     Yes. 

TOMMY.  (Looking  off  to  balcony)  How'll  I  get 
a  chance? 

DOCTOR.  Make  one!  If  you're  romantic — be  ro 
mantic — put  your  whole  heart  into  it — don't  be 
afraid !  Walk  right  up  and  grab  her — and  make  her 
listen  to  you. 

TOMMY.  Well,  Doctor,  when  you  say  grab  her — • 
you  don't  mean — (Makes  movement  of  grabbing) — - 
grab  her  ? 

DOCTOR.    Yes,  I  do — grab  her  and  hang  on. 

(MRS.  LIVINGSTON  enters  with  tablets,  comes  down 
between  TOMMY  and  DOCTOR.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Here  you  are,  Tommy.  (She 
gives  TOMMY  a  pill.)  How  many  do  you  think  he 
ought  to  take,  Myron? 

DOCTOR,  (Looks  at  TOMMY)  Well,  not  many. 
You  can  take  one  now  and  one  in  half  an  hour,  Tom 
my. 

TOMMY.  Yes,  sir.  (Takes  the  pill  and  glass  of 
water,  which  he  gets  from  card  table,  places  glass  of 
water  on  table  R.J 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (After  placing  aspirin  bottle 
on  table  R.,  goes  L.  of  card  table,  sits)  Fred  still 
talking? 

DOCTOR.    I  guess  so !    (Door  slam.) 


36  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

(LIVINGSTON  enters,  com-es  to  his  seat  back  of  card 
table.    DOCTOR  and  TOMMY  resume  their  seats.) 

LIVINGSTON.    All  right — I  bid  three  spades ! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Did  you?  I  wish  your  mem 
ory  was  as  good  as  that  about  other  things. 

LIVINGSTON.  And  you  all  passed.  (Telephone 
bell  rings  twice.) 

DOCTOR.     I  guess  that's  for  me. 

LIVINGSTON.    Oh,  Lord ! 

DOCTOR.  (Goes  to  'phone  u,p  c.)  Hello — this  is 
Dr.  Anderson — yes,  Miss  Kennedy — she  has?  All 
right — I'll  be  right  over.  (Hangs  up  receiver,  rings 
off,  comes  down  c.)  I'll  have  to  leave. 

LIVINGSTON.     This  has  been  a  fine  rubber. 

DOCTOR.     I'm  sorry,  Fred. 

LIVINGSTON.  Well,  you're  dummy  anyway,  My 
ron.  We  can  finish  this  hand.  (DOCTOR  goes  up  c. 
As  he  passes  TOMMY  he  nudges  him  to  attract  his 
attention.) 

(TOMMY  turns  to  DOCTOR,  who  stops  up  c.,  then 
turns  to  TOMMY  and  motions  for  TOMMY  to  grab 
GRACE.  LIVINGSTON  turns,  catches  the  DOCTOR, 
who  goes  into  hall  up  c.  TOMMY  and  the  LIV 
INGSTONS  start  playing  the  hand.  GRACE  enters 
from  porch;  she  is  very  serious,  and  "goes  to  win 
dow-seat  R.  As  GRACE  enters,  TOMMY  turns  to 
see  her  and  plays  out  of  turn.  DICK  follows 
GRACE  in  and  goes  down  R.  a  little,  watching 
GRACE,  then  back  to  c.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  That  was  my  king,  Tommy. 
(GRACE  goes  to  window  seat  RV  sits.) 

TOMMY.     I  beg  your  pardon! 

DICK.  (Coming  to  back  of  card  table)  Good 
night,  Mrs.  Livingston,  Mr.  Livingston ! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     Going,  Dick? 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  37 

DICK.  Yes — I  have  some  blue  prints  I  have  to 
look  over. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    I  see.     Well,  good-night 

DICK.  (Almost  walks  into  the  DOCTOR  out  in  hall 
up  c.)  Good-night,  Doctor. 

DOCTOR.     You're  leaving  early,  aren't  you? 

DICK.  I  didn't  expect  to  stay  late  tonight.  I 
have  a  lot  of  work  to  do.  (Exits.) 

DOCTOR.  Wait  a  minute.  I'll  go  along  with  you. 
(Out  in  hall) 

LIVINGSTON.     Oh,   Myron (DOCTOR  comes 

to  door  c.)    I  made  my  three. 

DOCTOR.     Good !     (Exits  c.  to  L.J 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  You  wouldn't  if  Tommy 
hadn't  put  his  ace  on  my  king  of  diamonds.  (Door 
slam.) 

TOMMY.     I'm  terribly  sorry  about  that. 

LIVINGSTON.    You  want  to  play,  Grace? 

GRACE.  I'd  rather  not,  dad.  (Crosses  and  sits  on 
arm  of  sofa  R.  ) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Tommy's  head  is  aching,  too. 

LIVINGSTON.  (Resigned)  Oh,  all  right.  (Takes 
table  with  cards  and  scores  and  exits  into  hall  with 
them.  MRS.  LIVINGSTON  moves  the  chairs,  one  down 
L.,  the  other  up  L.CV  then  tidies  music  on  piano.) 

TOMMY.  (Crosses  to  GRACE,  replacing  stool  'be 
low  table  R.)  I  haven't  had  a  chance  to  talk  to  you 
all  evening. 

GRACE.    Well,  you'd  rather  play  cards. 

TOMMY.     Not  rather. 

GRACE.    You  did.     I  supposed  you  preferred  to. 

TOMMY.  I'll  never  do  it  again.  The  next  time 
I'm  asked  to  play  cards  I  am  going  to  say,  No,  I 
have  a  headache.  Of  course — I'll  do  it  nicely,  but 
I  won't  play  cards. 

GRACE.  Tommy,  you  are  getting  bold.  (LIVING 
STON  enters  c.) 


38  THE  FIRST  YEAR 

LIVINGSTON.  It's  half-past  nine,  mother.  I'm  go 
ing  to  bed. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    All  right,  dear. 

LIVINGSTON.     Good-night,  Tommy. 

TOMMY.  Oh,  good-night,  Mr.  Livingston.  (MRS. 
LIVINGSTON  arranges  music  on  top  of  piano  and 
closes  it.) 

LIVINGSTON.  (Coming  down  R.cJ  Where  is 
Dick? 

GRACE.    Gone ! 

LIVINGSTON.    Is  that  so? 

GRACE.     He  said  good-night  to  you. 

LIVINGSTON.  (Crosses  between  GRACE  and  TOM 
MY)  Did  he  ?  I  didn't  hear  him. 

GRACE.     He  had  some  work  to  do. 

LIVINGSTON.  Did  he?  Oh,  I  see.  (Sits  between 
TOMMY  and  GRACE.)  How  is  business  with  you, 
Tommy? 

TOMMY.  Why,  all  right,  Mr.  Livingston — in  fact, 
I  am  doing  very  well,  much  better  than  I  expected  to 
be  doing.  You  see,  I  have  a  business  that  is  certain 
— it  isn't  big,  but  it  is  certain.  I  am  very  glad  that 
you  and  Mrs.  Livingston  are  here  because  it  gives 

me  a  chance  to  speak  to  you  on  a  subject (The 

LIVINGSTONS  are  all  attention.  GRACE  looks  as 
though  she  could  guess  what  was  coming  and  dreads 
it.)  I  have  wanted  to  speak  to  you  about.  (Tele 
phone  bell  rings.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Just  one  moment,  Tommy! 
(Goes  to  'phone.  TOMMY  is  perspiring  with  nerves.) 

Hello!  Yes — who  is  it Oh!  Tommy,  Myron 

wants  to  speak  to  you. 

TOMMY.  The  Doctor?  (Crosses  to 'phone.  MRS. 
LIVINGSTON  comes  down  c.  and  sits.)  Hello !  Yes, 
sir — yes — I  know  he  did — they  have  ? — Yes — I'll  try 
— and  remember — yes — thanks  for  reminding  me! 
(He  hangs  up  receiver,  rings  off,  and  comes  down  R. 
of  c.  in  a  bewildered  manner.) 


THE  FIRST   YEAR  39 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (To  TOMMY,  as  fie  gets  down 
R.c.j  Was  it  important? 

TOMMY.  Yes!  Yes!  I  should  say  it  was  !  Some 
thing  the  Doctor  wanted  me  to  be  sure  and  remem 
ber. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    I  think  I  know  what  it  is ! 

TOMMY.     (Afraid  she  does)     You  do? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Your  other  tablet. 

TOMMY.  Yes,  that's  it!  He  thought  I'd  forget  it. 
(Gets  tablet  from  table,  and  water,  takes  tablet  fever 
ishly,  with  relief.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Now,  Tommy,  we  are  all  in 
terested What  was  it  you  were  going  to  tell  us  ? 

TOMMY.    (After  a  second's  pause)     Nothing! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    What? 

TOMMY.  I  guess  I'd  rather  not  say  anything  about 
it. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Well,  if  it's  important  and 
something  you  think  Fred  and  I  ought  to  know 

TOMMY.  (  Quickly)    No,  no,  it's  nothing  like  that. 

LIVINGSTON.     Like  what? 

TOMMY.  Like  something  you  ought  to  know.  It'd 
take  rather  a  long  time  to  tell  you,  and  I  didn't  real 
ize  it  was  so  late. 

LIVINGSTON.    Well,  then,  don't  start  it  tonight. 

TOMMY.     No,  I  won't. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Well,  just  as  you  please  about 
it.  (Rises,  moves  chair  up  R.  of  table  L.J  Good 
night,  Tommy. 

TOMMY.     Good-night. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Don't  sit  up  too  late,  Grace. 
(Goes  off  c.,  for  count  of  ten,  then  comes  back  to 
doorway,  calling  down  stage)  Fred !  (Exits  up 
stairs.) 

LIVINGSTON.  Eh?  (Looks  from  GRACE  to  TOM 
MY,  then  realizes  that  MRS.  LIVINGSTON  means  to 
leave  them  alone.)  Oh!  (Rises  and  goes  up  c.) 
Oh — good-night,  Tommy !  (Exits  upstairs.) 


40  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

TOMMY.  Good-night !  (TOMMY  goes  up  to  see  if 
they  are  gone,  then  after  a  pause  looks  at  telephone, 
remembering  what  the  DOCTOR  told  him.  Then  mak 
ing  up  his  mind,  he  comes  down  stage  back  of  GRACE 
and  grabs  her.) 

GRACE.  Tommy,  behave  yourself !  (She  pushes 
him  off;  he  falls  away  in  front  of  her,  then  rises  and 
slowly  crosses  stage  to  L.)  What  do  you  mean  by 
that? 

TOMMY.     I  beg  your  pardon. 

GRACE.     What's  the  matter  with  you  ? 

TOMMY.     Will  you  forgive  me,  please ! 

GRACE.     Why,  Tommy,  that  isn't  a  bit  like  you. 

TOMMY.     I  know  it  isn't. 

GRACE.  Tommy,  what  did  Uncle  call  you  up 
about  ? 

TOMMY.  He  wanted  to  give  me  some  advice — 
about  something. 

GRACE.     (Rising)     Oh ! 

TOMMY.     But  it  wasn't  any  good. 

GRACE.  I  thought  your  telephone  message  had 
something  to  do  with  me.  (Sits  on  stool  front  of 
table  R.J  Oh,  Tommy,  what  were  you  going  to  speak 
to  mother  and  dad  about? 

TOMMY.  It  wasn't  anything  important — it  was 
something  about  business. 

GRACE.    Oh,  is  your  business  improving,  Tommy  ? 

TOMMY.    Yes— that  is,  I'm  satisfied ! 

GRACE.  Yes,  that's  what  Dick  said  about  you  to 
night — "you're  satisfied." 

TOMMY.  (Crossing  to  her)  Dick's  all  wrong 
about  that — I'm  a  long  way  from  being  satisfied. 

GRACE.  He  meant  with  your  business  and  your 
surroundings ! 

TOMMY.    Oh! 

GRACE.  Don't  you  feel,  though,  Tommy,  that  you'd 
like  to  get  away — branch  out  and  try  your  luck  with 
new  people  in  new  scenes  ? 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  41 

TOMMY.  Why,  would  you  like  to  go  away, 
Grace? 

GRACE.  Indeed  I  would,  Tommy!  I  am  so  tired 
of  the  same  parties  with  the  same  people — same  talk 
— same  everything.  You  don't  know  how  I  almost 
hate  it. 

TOMMY.  Well,  I  suppose  it's  because  you're  a  girl 
— you  haven't  business  to  take  up  your  time.  Maybe 
if  you  had  a  home — of  your  own — I  mean — a  home 
of  your  own — that  would  help  to  keep  you  busy — 
and  happy! 

GRACE.     Here  ? 

TOMMY.    Yes! 

GRACE.  Oh,  no!  (TOMMY  turns  away.)  It's 
nerves  with  me,  Tommy !  I  can't  listen  to  the  surf — 
some  people  it  puts  to  sleep.  I  never  could  practice 
scales ;  it  drives  me  mad  to  sit  and  go  da,  da,  da,  da, 
da,  da !  I  wish  I  had  been  a  boy !  I'd  go  and  see 
places  and  people — get  out  and  do  something — like 
Dick! 

TOMMY.  You  and  Dick  are  a  good  deal  alike.  I 
suppose  that's  the  sort  of  chap  you'd  like  to  marry, 
Grace. 

GRACE.  Maybe  we  wouldn't  want  to  travel  to  the 
same  places  at  the  same  time,  though. 

TOMMY.  I  should  think  a  fellow  would  do  any 
thing  you  would  want  him  to  do. 

GRACE.  (Looks  at  him)  All  men  are  not  like 
you,  Tommy ! 

TOMMY.  No,  that's  right — if  they  were  there'd 
be  no  Columbuses,  or  Drakes,  or  Pearys. 

GRACE.  (Rising)  I  wonder  what  sort  of  a  girl 
you'll  marry,  Tommy. 

TOMMY.  (Without  looking  at  her)  I  don't  know 
— now! 

GRACE.  Why  "now"?  Did  someone  refuse  you, 
Tommy  ? 

TOMMY.     Practically. 


42  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

GRACE.  Then  she  hasn't  one  grain  of  sense !  (He 
turns  to  her  quickly.)  Who  is  she,  Tommy?  (TOM 
MY,  with  his  heart  in  his  eyes,  thinking  she  knows 
but  is  laughing  at  him,  turns  away.)  Can  you  tell 
me?  Honest,  who  is  it ?  (Pause.) 

TOMMY.     You! 

GRACE.    Me  ?    (Pretending  surprise.) 

TOMMY.    Ugh-hugh! 

GRACE.  But  how  can  you  say  I  refused  you,  Tom 
my  ?  You've — you've  never  asked  me ! 

TOMMY.  (Looks  at  her)  I  thought  you  knew — 
just  now  I  spoke  about  a  home  of  your  own. 

GRACE.  Oh,  Tommy!  (Meaning  she  never  con 
sidered  that  a  proposal.) 

TOMMY.  (Turns  away)  I  know  that  whatever 
I'd  offer  you  wouldn't  be  inducement  enough.  For 
the  first  time,  I  wish  I  was  like  Dick.  But  I'm  not 
—I  couldn't  be ! 

GRACE.  (Coming  down  to  him)  Couldn't  you, 
Tommy  ? 

TOMMY.  No,  I  just  couldn't.  I'll  tell  you  the 
truth — while  you  were  out  there  with  Dick  tonight, 
the  Doctor  told  me  I  was  all  wrong.  He  told  me  I 
ought  to  be  romantic.  He  told  me  a  lot  of  things 
to  do.  I  can't  remember  them,  and  I  couldn't  do 
them  if  I  did.  I  was  going  to  speak  to  your  father 
and  mother  tonight,  and  then  the  telephone  rang,  and 
the  Doctor  told  me — again — I  wasn't  to  do  that — he 
told  me  before,  but  I  had  forgotten  that,  too. 

GRACE.  I  thought  that  was  it.  Did  he  tell  you 
Dick  and  I  had  had  a  quarrel? 

TOMMY.     Yes. 

GRACE.     And  the  reason  ? 

TOMMY.  No — he  didn't  have  time.  He  just  said 
"Be  romantic  and  grab  her !" 

GRACE.  (Laughs;  goes  up  R.  a  little  and  comes 
back  to  TOMMY)  You  do  love  me  a  lot,  don't  you, 
Tommy  ? 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  43 

TOMMY.     Grace,  I  can't  tell  you  how  much. 

GRACE.  You  don't  have  to.  I  wonder  if  you  would 
marry  me  if  I  said — yes? 

TOMMY.     Grace! 

GRACE.    Wait!     If  I  said  "yes"! 

TOMMY.     Yes. 

GRACE.     Provided  we  go  away  some  place  to  live. 

TOMMY.  All  right !  (Pause.)  But  wouldn't  it  be 
the  same  if  we  took  a  couple  of  trips  every  year? 
Then;  when  we  came  back,  everything  would  be 
practically  new ! 

GRACE.    I  couldn't  marry  anyone  and  live  here. 

TOMMY.     (Quickly)     All  right.     (Then  another 
pause  for  thought.)      But  there  is  my   business, 
Grace  ? 

GRACE.  Haven't  you  faith  enough  in  yourself  to 
build  up  another — some  other  place  ?  I  have. 

TOMMY.  Have  you?  Yes,  I  guess  I  could  do  that ! 
Is  that  all,  Grace  ? 

GRACE.     That's  all,  Tommy ! 

TOMMY.    Gee !    What  a  lucky  fellow  I  am. 

GRACE.  ^  Do  you  really  think  so,  Tommy  ?  Caring 
for  the  things  you  do,  you'd  give  them  all  up  for 
me,  and  think  you  were  lucky  ? 

TOMMY.  Why,  that's  nothing  to  what  I'd  do  for 
you.  I  wish  I  could  tell  you ! 

GRACE.  (Sits  L.  of  table  R.J  There  is  something 
I  must  tell  you,  too,  Tommy.  I  want  always  to  be 
honest  with  you.  Sit  down.  (TOMMY  looks  around 
for  a  seat  at  L.J  No,  here !  (TOMMY  crosses  R.,  sits 
front  of  table  R.  on  stool.  GRACE  moves  her  chair 
down  close  to  him.)  I  told  you  Dick  and  I  had  a 
quarrel.  Do  you  want  to  know  what  it  was  about? 

TOMMY.     If  you  want  to  tell  me. 

GRACE.  Yes,  I  do.  Dick  asked  me  to  marry  him. 
Go  away  with  him.  And  when  I  wouldn't  elope,  we 
quarrelled.  It  wasn't  that  so  much,  though,  as  it 


44  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

was  what  he  said — that  it  would  be  the  last  chance 
I'd  have. 

TOMMY.  Oh!  I  see.  You  are  agreeing  to  marry 
me  just  to  show  Dick? 

GRACE.  No — I'm  marrying  you — (Rising  and 
meaning  it) — because  I  love  you,  Tommy!  (ToM- 
MY  rises.)  And  I  will  try  and  make  you  happy. 

TOMMY.  All  I  ask  is  to  be  as  happy  as  I  am  at 
this  moment.  (GRACE  stands  waiting  for  him  to  kiss 
her.  They  are  both  embarrassed.)  Are  we  en 
gaged  ? 

GRACE.  Well,  not  really — yet !  (There  is  a  pause. 
They  both  stand  looking  at  each  other;  then  he  kisses 
her,  gets  foot  caught  in  stool,  takes  it  out,  laughing. 
GRACE  laughs,  then  sits  in  chair  L.  of  table  R.) 

TOMMY.     We  are  now ! 

GRACE.  Yes  !  (TOMMY  sits  on  table,  then  on  arm 
of  her  chair.  He  tries  to  get  his  arm  around  her,  but 
j-ust  as  he  gets  it  back  of  her,  she  looks  up,  and  he 
brushes  his  hair  back.  Then  as  she  looks  away  he 
gets  arm  back  of  her.) 

TOMMY.  Did  you  really  mean  what  you  said  about 
wanting  to  gro  away? 

GRACE.  Oh,  yes,  Tommy.  I  want  to  travel  and 
see  strange  places. 

TOMMY.     Well,  how  about  Joplin,  Missouri? 

GRACE.     Joplin  ? 

TOMMY.     Would  you  like  to  go  there? 

GRACE.     Oh,  yes. 

TOMMY.  Well,  that's  fine,  because  I  know  a  fel 
low  in  Joplin  who  has  a  business  for  sale,  and  he 

told  me (As  he  speaks  the  lights  go  down  until 

the  house  is  in  utter  darkness.  Then  a  clock  strikes 
twelve,  and  as  lights  go  up  they  are  sitting  in  the  same 
position.,  Two  blue  spots  come  on  at  R.  with  stage 
lights,  one  h'ts  tab^e  R..  the  other  hits  door  up  c.) 
— More  than  anybody  in  the  world  ? 

GRACE.     More  than  anybody  in  the  world. 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  45 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (From  head  of  stairs,  off 
stage)  Grace,  do  you  know  it  is  twelve  o'clock? 

GRACE.     Yes,  mother! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Has  Tommy  gone? 

GRACE.  He's  just  going1.  (Goes  front  of  table 
and  up  to  door  R.  TOMMY  rises.  His  foot  is  asleep; 
he  kicks  it  with  the  other  to  wake  it  up.  Gets  hat 
he  has  left  on  table  in  hall,  then  kisses  GRACE  and 
exits ;  he  is  heard  whistling  doum  the  street.  GRACE, 
humming  to  herself,  turns  off  linht  in  lamp  on  table 
R.,  then  switch  R.  of  door  c..  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs 
she  calls — )  Mother,  what  do  you  think  ? 

CURTAIN 


ACT   II 


The  home  of  the  Tuckers  in  Joplin,  Mo. 

An  unpretentious  panelled  room  in  a  plain  wash 
color.  It  is  furnished  with  cheap  Mission  furni 
ture.  A  large  recessed  window  c.  (curtained). 
There  is  a  door  L.UV  leading  from  the  hallway, 
in  which  there  is  a  thumb  bell.  This  door  is  set 
in  a  sort  of  alcove,  about  a  foot  and  a  half  deep, 
just  allowing  room  for  a  hat-rack  and  an  um 
brella  stand. 

Swinging  door  R.  leads  to  the  kitchen.  Below  this 
door  there  is  a  built-in  china  closet.  The  lower 
half  is  taken  up  with  three  drawers  in  which  is 
kept  the  table  linen;  the  upper  half,  filled  with 
shelves  and  books,  holds  the  plates  and  saucers 
and  knives  and  forks  and  cups.  There  is  a  chair 
placed  below  this  cupboard. 

Below  the  door  is  a  small  table.  On  it  are  four  nap 
kins  and  rolls,  all  ready  for  the  dinner  table. 
Against  the  wall  L.C.  is  a  combination  desk  and 
bookcase.  In  the  upper  part  with  the  book 
shelves  are  two  blue  prints  of  the  Amusement 
Park  property.  The  desk  has  the  usual  assort 
ment  of  writing  paper,  pen  and  ink,  etc.  On  top 
of  the  bookcase  is  a  small  oval  frame  with 
GRACE'S  picture  in  it,  and  above  the  desk  is  a 
still  larger  one  hanging  on  the  wall;  between 
the  bookcase  and  the  c.  window  there  is  a  vie- 
frola,  with  records  in  the  cabinet  below. 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  47 

A  dining  table  stands  R.C.  A  buzzer,  with  the  wire 
running  to  the  kitchen,  id  under  the  table  within 
easy  reach  of  GRACE'S  foot  when  she  seats  her 
self.  A  small  triangular-shaped  table  is  L.C.  with 
a  large  easy  chair  R.  of  it  and  a  smaller  chair  L. 
Everything  is  neat  but  inexpensive.  There  are 
four  green  glass  brackets  on  the  wall. 

It  is  about  seven-thirty  in  the  evening. 

(After  curtain  is  well  up,  GRACE  enters  from 
kitchen  with  tray  on  which  are  three  vases  of 
flowers;  puts  tray  on  table,  places  one  vase  on 
table  up  R.,  the  next  on  bookcase  up  L.C.,  and 
third  on  table  down  L.C.  Crosses  to  closet  R. 
and  gets  four  dinner  plates  and  four  salad  plates 
and  puts  them  on  tray.  Doorbell  rings;  she 
hesitates,  then  crosses  to  door  and  opens  it. 
HATTIE  discovered  standing  there.) 

GRACE,    Well? 

HATTIE.     I  want  to  see  Mrs.  Tucker. 

GRACE.  Just  come  in  a  minute,  please.  (HATTIE 
enters.  She  is  poorly  dressed;  carries  a  small  net 
shopping  bag.  Comes  down  c.  GRACE  closes  door, 
comes  down  L.  of  table  L.j  I  am  Mrs.  Tucker. 

HATTIE.  My  Mammie  sent  me  to  tell  you  she 
cain't  come  to  work  for  you  this  evenin' ! 

GRACE.  Oh,  good  heavens !  (Sits  L.  of  table  L. 
HATTIE  comes  down  c.  and  waits  to  be  questioned. 
She  has  the  habit  of  not  looking  at  the  person  she  is 
speaking  to.)  Why  can't  your  mother  come  to 
night  ? 

HATTIE.     She's  ?ot  misery. 

GRACE.     I  never  heard  of  it.     What's  misery? 

^HATTIE.  I  don't  know  exactly,  but  it  makes  Mam 
mie  feel  like  she  don't  want  to  do  nothin'  but  lie 
down. 


48  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

GRACE.  (Crosses  to  HATTIE)  You  go  home  and 
tell  your  mother  I've  simply  got  to  have  her.  I've 
two  people  coming  to  dinner  tonight  I've  never  seen 
before. 

HATTIE.  It  won't  do  no  good,  'cause  when  she 
gets  her  misery  attacks,  she  has  to  break  all  her  dates. 

GRACE.  (Crosses  R.C.,  stops  suddenly)  Oh,  dear ! 
(HATTIE  turns,  comes  down  c.)  What's  your  name  ? 

HATTIE.     Hattie. 

GRACE.    Well — er — Hattie,  do  you  work  out? 

HATTIE.    'Casionally. 

GRACE.     What  do  you  do? 

HATTIE.     Washes. 

GRACE.     Did  you  ever  wait  on  table? 

HATTIE.    Yes'm — but  I  washes  best,  tho*. 

GRACE.  I  don't  need  anybody  to  wash  tonight; 
but  I  do  want  someone  to  serve  dinner.  Will  you  do 
that  for  me? 

HATTIE.  There's  something  here  I  got  to  take 
home  to  Mammie (Holding  up  the  net  bag.) 

GRACE.  But,  Hattie,  I  only  want  you  about  an 
hour.  Won't  that  be  time  enough  ? 

HATTIE.  (Thinks  for  a  moment)  Yes'm,  I  guess 
so. 

GRACE.  You  see,  I  can  tell  you  exactly  what  I 
want  you  to  do.  You  will  just  remember  what  I  tell 
you.  (Goes  to  right  R.J  And  I'll  give  you  an  apron 
to  wear. 

HATTIE.  (Sitting  in  armchair  L.  of  table  R.) 
That's  all  right — these  are  my  old  clothes. 

GRACE.  Just  the  same,  I'd  rather  you'd  wear  one. 
(Goes  to  closet  R.,  gets  two  bouillon  cups  and  four 
saucers  and  puts  them  on  tray  on  table  R.C .)  We  are 
not  going  to  have  anything  elaborate,  but  I  have 
cooked  a  nice  dinner,  and  I'd  like  it  well  served. 
Come  here,  Hattie.  (HATTIE  goes  up  R.  to  GRACE.) 
Do  you  know  where  to  stand  when  you  are  waiting 
on  a  person? 


THE  FIRST  YEAR  49 

HATTIE.     Alongside  of  them. 

GRACE.  (Trying  to  be  patient)  Yes,  of  course, 
but  which  side? 

HATTIE.     Nome. 

GRACE.     On  the  left ! 

HATTIE.     On  the  lef '  ? 

GRACE.  (Crosses  c.  and  sits  in  chair  L.  of  table 
R.J  Yes.  For  instance,  if  I  was  sitting  here,  where 
would  you  stand  ? 

HATTIE.     On  the  lef! 

GRACE.     Show  me! 

HATTIE.  (Hesitates,  then  crosses  to  L.  of  GRACE) 
Here! 

GRACE.  (Rises,  gose  down  R.,  gets  two  bouillon 
cups  from  sideboard)  Now,  Hattie,  do  you  know 
what  these  are  for? 

HATTIE.     Coffee ! 

GRACE.  (Crossing  to  HATTIE)  No — not  with  two 
handles.  These  are  for  the  bouillon. 

HATTIE.     (That  meaning  nothing  to  her)    What? 

GRACE.  Boo — soup !  (Puts  cups  on  tray.)  First, 
though,  we'll  have  melon. 

HATTIE.     Yes'm. 

GRACE.  Then  the  soup,  roast  chicken  and  two 
vegetables,  salad  and  coffee.  The  coffee  you  will 
serve  after  everything.  (Crosses  to  closet,  gets  two 
demi-tasse  cups  and  four  saucers.) 

HATTIE.  After  everything — after  the  melon  and 
after  the  soup 

GRACE.  (Gets  two  more  cups  from  closet)  No, 
no,  Hattie,  you  will  serve  the  coffee — when  the  din 
ner  is  over — in  these  little  cups.  (Showing  one  to 
HATTIE.J 

HATTIE.     Yes'm. 

GRACE.  Hattie,  are  you  sure  you  have  waited  on 
table  before? 

HATTIE.     Yes'm,  but  I  washes  best,  tho'. 
GRACE.     You  come  with  me  and  I'll  show  you 


50  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

where  to  hang  your  things  and  what  I  want  done 
first.  (Takes  tray  and  exits  to  kitchen,  followed  by 
HATTIE.) 

(TOMMY  enters  by  street  door  up  LV  carrying  bag  of 
oranges  and  peanuts.  As  he  enters,  he  gives  a 
whistle  as  a  signal  he  has  arrived.  He  hangs 
hat  on  rack  L.  of  door.  As  he  conies  down 
stage  he  sees  the  table  still  unset  and  takes  out 
his  watch,  surprised  arrangements  are  not  more 
advanced.  Gives  another  whistle.  He  puts  fruit 
in  silver  dish  on  table  and  takes  dish  and  bag  of 
peanuts  up  to  table  up  R. — he  stuffs  empty  bag 
into  his  pocket.  As  he  stands  with  back  to  au 
dience  the  swinging  door  opens'  with  a  bang  and 
hits  him  on  the  back.) 

GRACE.  (Enters  with  pad  for  table)  Darling,  I 
didn't  know  you  were  here.  Did  I  hurt  you? 

TOMMY.    No.    Do  you  know'what  time  it  is? 

GRACE.  (Takes  center  piece  from  large  table,  puts 
it  on  table  up  R.)  Seven? 

TOMMY.     It's  after. 

GRACE.  I  can't  help  it.  (Starts  to  put  pad  on 
table.)  Margaret  never  showed  up,  and  I  had  every 
thing  to  do  mvself. 

TOMMY.  ( 'Empties  bag  of  peanuts  into  two  glass 
dishes  on  table  up  R.j  What  is  the  matter  with 
Margaret  ? 

GRACE.     She  has  misery. 

TOMMY.     What's  misery? 

GRACE.  I  haven't  any  idea,  except  that  it  is  some 
thing  that  is  supposed  to  love  company,  so  I  know  I 
haven't  got  it.  (Spreads  tablecloth,  which  she  gets 
from  drawer  of  cupboard  down  R.) 

TOMMY.  What  are  we  going  to  do  for  somebody 
to  wait  on  table  ? 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  51 

GRACE.  Margaret's  daughter  just  showed  up,  so 
there  will  be  somebody 

TOMMY.  You  poor  dear !  (Starts  to  embrace  her, 
but  she  holds  him  off.) 

GRACE.  Please  don't,  darling !  There  is  plenty  to 
do  yet. 

TOMMY.  I'll  help  you,  dear !  (Goes  down  R.,  gets 
basket  containing  knives,  forks  and  spoons;  he  puts 
basket  on  tablecloth  that  GRACE  is  trying  to  spread, 
she  moves  it  over  Lv  then  he  places  knives  where 
forks  should  be.  GRACE  follows  him,  fixing  them  in 
their  proper  places.) 

GRACE.  Please  don't,  Tommy!  I'd  rather  do  it 
myself. 

TOMMY.     I  thought  you  wanted  some  help? 

GRACE.    You're  getting  it  all  wrong. 

TOMMY.  All  right,  go  ahead  and  do  it  yourself, 
then.  (He  takes  chair  from  L.  of  table  R.,  moves  it 
upR.) 

GRACE.  Will  you  please  put  that  chair  back  where 
it  belongs?  (TOMMY  puts  chair  back  in  its  place.) 

TOMMY.  What's  the  matter  with  you  tonight, 
aren't  you  feeling  well? 

GRACE.  How  would  you  feel  if  you  were  left  with 
out  help  and  had  people  coming  for  dinner  you  had 
never  seen  ? 

TOMMY.  Oh,  I  know,  dear,  but  they'll  understand, 
and  make  allowances. 

GRACE.  Will  they?  Don't  forget  one  of  them  is 
a  woman.  (Crosses  to  closet,  gets  two  salt  and  two 
pepper-shakers  and  puts  them  on  table,  spilling  the 
salt.  TOMMY  throws  it  over  shoulders.) 

TOMMY.  I'm  sure  Mrs.  Barstow  will.  If  she  is 
anything  like  her  husband  she  will,  and  I  haven't  told 
you  yet  just  why  I  wanted  him  to  have  dinner  with 
us  tonight 

GRACE.  Having  dinner  with  us  is  all  right,  but 
why  not  take  them  out  some  place  to  dinner?  It 


52  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

would  have  been  much  simpler  and  no  more  expen 
sive.  (Crosses  to  closet,  gets  glasses  and  places  them 
on  table.) 

TOMMY.  I  know,  but  I  wanted  Mr.  Barstow  to 
come  here.  It's  a  business  reason,  and  a  very  im 
portant  one. 

GRACE.  (Crosses  to  small  table  R.,,  puts  a  roll  in 
each  napkin;  crosses  to  table  and  puts  one  at  each 
place)  I  don't  suppose  it  ever  occurred  to  you  that 
I  might  like  to  go  to  a  restaurant — that  I  might  like 
a  change  from  this  eternal  cooking  and  eating  at 
home.  I  am  honestly  so  tired  of  eating  food  I  have 
watched  cook,  I'd  be  willing  to  make  a  meal  of  boiled 
cabbage  if  I  could  go  out  for  it — and  I  hate  cab 
bage  !  (Exits  R.,  with  a  bang  on  the  door.) 

TOMMY.  (Goes  to  door,  calls  off  to  her)  I  didn't 
know  you  felt  that  way.  (GRACE  enters,  bumping 
TOMMY  with  door,  carrying  water- pitcher  and  speak 
ing  back  into  kitchen  to  HATTIE.) 

GRACE.  Take  the  potatoes  off  next,  Hattie.  (She 
fills  glasses  on  table.) 

TOMMY.  (Crosses  down  to  GRACE)  I'll  tell  you 
what  we'll  do,  then — tomorrow  night  you  go  out  to 
dinner,  and  we  won't  eat  boiled  cabbage,  either.  Go 
any  place  you  say,  and  have  anything  you  want. 
How's  that? 

GRACE.  Well,  I'll  see  how  I  feel.  (Filling  last 
glass.  TOMMY  crosses  around  to  up  L.  of  table  and 
drinks  from  a  glass  GRACE  has  just  filled.)  Tommy, 
I  just  filled  that !  Now  you  hurry  and  get  dressed. 
(TOMMY  crosses  up  L.  to  door,  takes  bag  from  pock 
et,  throws  it  in  umbrella  stand.) 

TOMMY.    What  do  you  mean  by  get  dressed? 

GRACE.  Just  what  I  say.  You  are  not  going  to  sit 
down  to  dinner  looking  like  that,  are  you? 

TOMMY.  (Crosses  to  c.)  But  you  don't  mean  my 
full-dress  clothes? 

GRACE.     Certainly  I  do. 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  53 

TOMMY.  (Almost  crying)  Oh,  I  don't  have  to  do 
that,  Grace!  Nobody  dresses  for  dinner  in  Joplin! 

GRACE.  (Crosses  to  TOMMY  up  c.)  Now  listen, 
Tommy !  It's  bad  enough  to  have  to  invite  people  to 
little  cramped  quarters  like  these,  and  we  can't  help 
it  if  they  think  we  can't  afford  better,  but  at  least  we 
are  not  going  to  act  in  a  way  to  make  them  think  we 
don't  know  better.  So  hurry  up!  (Puts  ivater- 
pitcher  on  table  up  R.j 

TOMMY.  (Unties  necktie,  unbuttons  collar)  All 
right,  but  I  never  feel  comfortable  in  them. 

GRACE.  (Gets  carving  set  from  closet,  places  it  on 
R.  of  table)  That's  because  you  don't  wear  them 
enough.  You  ought  to  be  glad  you  have  something 
to  wear — it's  more  than  I  have !  (She  gets  chair 
from  up  R.,  places  it  R.  of  table  R.  Chair  down  R. 
she  places  front  of  table.  TOMMY  exits  L.,  leaving 
door  open.  HATTIE  enters  from  the  kitchen,  crosses 
to  back  of  table.) 

HATTIE.  I  got  that  salad  all  done  like  you  told 
me! 

GRACE.  (Closes  door  of  closet  RV  crosses  up  to  R. 
of  HATTIE)  All  right,  Hattie.  Now  you  can  fix  the 
melons  and  put  them  back  on  the  ice.  Cut  them 
across. 

HATTIE.  (Starts  to  go,  stops)  Yes'm,  Which 
way  is  across  ? 

GRACE.    What? 

HATTIE.  Is  across  this  way  or  that  way  ?  (Ges 
tures  up  and  down  and  from  side  to  side.) 

GRACE.    Just  cut  them  in  half — this  way. 

HATTIE.  Oh.  Cut  them  in  half  is  the  same  as  cut 
them  across,  is  it  ? 

GRACE.  Just  the  same,  Hattie.  (HATTIE  exits 
into  kitchen.  GRACE  starts  for  kitchen.) 

TOMMY.     (Off  stage)     Grace!     Oh,  Grace! 

GRACE.    What? 

TOMMY.    Is  this  the  only  shirt  I  have? 


54  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

GRACE.  I  am  sure  I  don't  know.  (Takes  chair 
from  front  of  screen,  places  it  back  of  table.) 

TOMMY.  (Enters  with  shirt  in  his  hand)  I  can't 
wear  this  one — I  couldn't  last  time. 

GRACE.  (Comes  to  him  c.)  What's  the  matter 
with  it? 

TOMMY.  It's  got  three  buttonholes,  and  I  only 
have  two  studs.  Is  this  the  only  thing  I  have? 

GRACE.  (Going  R.  to  closet)  I  don't  know,  Tom 
my.  I  don't  wear  your  shirts. 

TOMMY.  I  know  you  don't  wear  my  shirts,  but 
did  you  send  them  out  to  the  laundry  ? 

GRACE.  I  did  if  you  put  them  in  the  laundry  bag. 
I  am  not  going  to  touch  your  things  after  the  last 
lecture  you  read  me. 

TOMMY.     When  did  I  do  that? 

GRACE.  (Comes  c.  to  TOMMY — HATTIE  enters) 
Last  week  I  looked  through  your  wardrobe  to  see  if 
you  had  forgotten 

TOMMY.  (HATTIE  comes  down  R.J  I  did  nothing 
of  the  kind.  I  only  said  it  was  strange  to  have  any 
one  arrange  things  for  me.  (He  sees  HATTIE,  stops, 
fascinated,  and  he  and  HATTIE  stand  taking  one  an 
other  in.  To  GRACE)  Is  that 

GRACE.  That  is — and  glad  to  get  it.  (Crossing 
to  HATTIE.)  Hattie,  did  you  seed  the  melons? 

HATTIE.  Yes'm,  I  seed  them.  (TOMMY  goes  up 
c.) 

GRACE.    No — I  mean  did  you  take  the  seeds  out? 

HATTIE.     Oh,  does  you  do  that? 

GRACE.     Of  course. 

HATTIE.  (Starts  up  R.  to  kitchen)  But  there's 
one  of  them  no  good ! 

GRACE.     No  good?     (HATTIE  stops  at  door.) 

TOMMY.  (Crosses  down,  c.  to  L.  of  GRACE)  How 
many  did  you  get  ? 

GRACE.    Two. 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  55 

TOMMY.  I  know,  dearest,  but  there  are  four  peo 
ple. 

GRACE.  Cut  two  melons  in  halves,  and  there 
should  be  enough,  if  they're  all  right. 

TOMMY.  I  know.  But  I  should  have  thought 
you'd  have  bought  another  to  be  sure. 

GRACE.     The  man  told  me  they  were  good. 

TOMMY.  Certainly  he  would.  But  didn't  you  feel 
them? 

GRACE.  I  felt  fifty  of  them,  until  I  had  no  sense 
of  touch  left.  Hattie,  is  there  a  good  one? 

HATTIE.     Yes'm,  one's  all  right. 

GRACE.  Then  give  the  best  half  of  the  one  that  is 
no  good  to  Mr.  Tucker,  and  I  won't  eat  any.  (She 
crosses  up  R.  to  table,  gets  the  two  dishes  of  peanuts 
and  puts  them  on  the  table.) 

HATTIE.     Yes'm.     (Exits.) 

TOMMY.  Grace,  you  are  not  going  to  let  her  wait 
on  table  looking  like  that,  are  you?  Can't  you  fix 
her  up  some  way  ? 

GRACE.  (Crossing  to  him,  almost  in  tears)  Tom 
my,  whom  do  you  wish  me  to  dress  first,  you,  or 
Hattie,  or  myself?  If  you'll  only  give  me  half  a 
chance  I'll  see  to  things.  But  first  you  come  with  a 
shirt,  then  Hattie  with  a  melon,  and  me  with  a  whole 
dinner  on  my  hands ! 

TOMMY.     What  do  you  want  me  to  do? 

GRACE.  I  want  you  to  get  in  the  room  and  finish 
dressing,  and  get  out  of  the  way  so  I  can  get  dressed. 

TOMMY.  All  right — that's  all  you  have  to  tell  me. 
(Exits,  closes  door  after  him.  HATTIE  enters,  comes 
behind  table  R.c.J 

HATTIE.  There's  only  one  vegetable  dish  out  there, 
Misses  Tucker. 

GRACE.  (Goes  down  K.,  gets  dish,  gives  it  to  HAT- 
TIE — in  a  very  tired  voice)  Here's  the  other  one, 
Hattie. 

HATTIE.    That's  pretty,  ain't  it? 


56  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

GRACE.  (Closes  closet)  Yes,  it  is  part  of  my  wed 
ding  present.  (HATTIE  starts  out  L.  GRACE  goes 
up  to  screen.)  Oh,  Hattie,  will  you  turn  out  the  gas 
in  the  oven  ?  I  won't  have  to  go  in  the  kitchen 
again.  Oh,  Hattie  !  (HATTIE  stops.  GRACE  crosses 
up  to  L.  of  HATTIE.)  Now  are  you  sure  you  have 
everything  in  your  mind  in  case  I  don't  have  a  chance 
to  go  over  it  with  you  again  ? 

HATTIE.     Yes 'in,  I  guess  so. 

GRACE.  Now,  Hattie,  where  are  you  going  to 
stand  when  you  hand  folks  their  plates? 

HATTIE.  (Crosses  down  to  R.,  swing's  dish  to  indi 
cate  place — GRACE  goes  up)  Here  ! 

GRACE.  I  know — but  which  side  is  it?  Wait! 
This  will  make  it  easier  for  you.  You  are  to  stand 
in  these  places — (They  go  around  table  to  back  of 
it) — here,  here,  here,  and  here. 

HATTIE.     Yes'm. 

GRACE.    What  are  you  going  to  serve  first  ? 

HATTIE.     Soup. 

GRACE.  No,  no,  first  the  melon.  (Moves  chair 
out  from  front  of  table  R.  so  she  won't  have  to  when 
she  sits  in  it  a  moment  later.) 

HATTIE.     That's  right,  I  forget  the  melon. 

GRACE.     Then  the  soup. 

HATTIE.     Yes'm. 

GRACE.    Roast  chicken  and  two  vegetables. 

HATTIE.     Yes'm. 

GRACE.     Then  the  salad,  and  after 

HATTIE.  (Swings  dish  and  cover  up  almost  over 
her  shoulder)  After  everything  comes  the  coffee. 

GRACE.  Oh,  Hattie,  I  really  believe  you  can  do  it, 
if  you  will  just  remember. 

HATTIE.  (Doivn  R.)  Yessem,  mammy  says  I  can 
do  things  right  if  I  wants  to. 

GRACE.  Well,  then,  please,  Hattie,  this  time,  want 
to  a  lot. 

HATTIE.     Yes'm. 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  57 

GRACE.  Now  I'll  get  dressed  and  find  an  apron 
for  you  by  the  time  I'm  ready.  (HATTIE  exits  with 
dish  GRACE  has  given  her.  GRACE  pulls  screen 
around  the  table,  and  as  she  does  so  there  is  a  crash 
of  china.  GRACE  stands  for  a  moment  undecided 
whether  to  cry  or  not,  and  finally — )  Damn  it! 
(Sits  front  of  table  R.  TOMMY  enters  in  evening 
dress;  his  tie  is  still  untied.) 

TOMMY.  (Crossing  to  GRACE)  What's  the  mat 
ter? 

GRACE.  The  vegetable  dish  of  the  set  mother  gave 
me — that's  all. 

TOMMY.     Broken? 

GRACE.     No — smashed. 

TOMMY.     I'm  sorry,  dear. 

GRACE.  (Rises)  What's  the  use  of  being  sorry, 
Tommy  ?  I'm  sorry,  too,  but  it  doesn't  help  matters. 
(Crosses  up  L.c.j 

TOMMY.  (Ties  his  tie)  Well,  it's  always  darkest 
before  dawn. 

^  GRACE.     So  they  say.    But  we've  had  a  long  arctic 
night.     (Crosses  to  door  L.) 

TOMMY.  I  know,  but  we  are  going  to  have  a  whole 
life  of  sunshine  now.  (With  a  lot  of  smile.) 

GRACE.  (Comes  to  TOMMY  at  c.)  What  do  you 
mean? 

TOMMY.  Well,  I  don't  want  to  tell  you  yet.  I 
want  to  surprise  you. 

GRACE.     Good  news? 

TOMMY.    Huh,  huh. 

GRACE.     You'll  surprise  me  all  right.     What  is  it  ? 

TOMMY.  (Crosses  up  c.)  I'll  tell  you  later.  (He 
crosses  down  to  her.) 

GRACE.     Now. 

TOMMY.     No,  no! 

GRACE.  (Pushes  TOMMY  in  chair  R.  of  table  L.J 
Tommy  Tucker,  I  don't  budge  from  this  spot  until 
you  tell  me  what  it  is !  (Holds  TOMMY  down.) 


58  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

TOMMY.    Well,  Grace,  we're  going  to  be  rich. 

GRACE.    Tommy !    (Drops  on  his  lap.) 

TOMMY.    Yes,  we  are,  Grace! 

GRACE.     Who  died? 

TOMMY.    Nobody.     I'm  going  to  make  it  myself. 

GRACE.     Oh,  tell  me ! 

TOMMY.  Do  you  remember  my  telling  you  about 
a  piece  of  property  they  call  the  Amusement  Park? 

GRACE.    Yes ! 

TOMMY.  Well,  for  the  last  six  months  I  have  been 
buying  options  on  all  those  lots  around  there  until  I 
have  gotten  control  of  the  whole  thing,  pretty  nearly. 

I  did  that  because  I  heard  on  good  authority 

You  remember  me  telling  you  of  a  fellow  named 
Doane,  who  used  to  be  secretary  to  the  president  of 
the  road? 

GRACE.     Wait  a  minute — president  of  what  road  ? 

TOMMY.  Of  the  railroad — Joplin  and  Missouri 
railroad — A.  J.  Frisbee  is  president  of  the  Joplin  and 
Missouri  Railroad. 

GRACE.    All  right!    Who  is  Doane? 

TOMMY.  Doane  was  his  secretary — and  Doane 
told  me  that  the  railroad  was  going  to  build  a  spur 
line,  and  that  the  route  they'd  take  would  be  right 
over  the  property  I  am  telling  you  about. 

GRACE.     I  don't  see  it  yet. 

TOMMY.  Well,  a  railroad  can't  just  go  out  and  be 
a  railroad,  can  it?  They  have  to  have  land  before 
they  can  lay  its  tracks. 

GRACE.     I  suppose  so. 

TOMMY.  And  if  they  buy  the  land,  they  have  to 
buy  from  the  man  who  owns  the  land,  don't  they? 

GRACE.  I  see,  I  see — you  don't  have  to  tell  me. 
Oh,  Tommy,  you  wonderful  thing!  (Then  doubt 
fully)  But  are  you  sure  they'll  buy  it? 

TOMMY.  (With  a  smile  of  great  assurance)  Well, 
here  is  what  I  didn't  want  to  tell  you — the  man  who 


THE  FIRST   YEAR  59 

is  coming  here  tonight  is  the  purchasing  agent  for 
the  road. 

GRACE.  Oh !  (Rises,  goes  R.,  takes  look  at  table. 
The  dinner  now  assumes  a  greater  importance. 
Fixes  a  few  dishes.) 

TOMMY.  (Rises,  crosses  to  her)  You  see,  we 
have  had  half  a  dozen  talks,  and  the  day  before  yes 
terday  I  gave  him  a  two-day  option  at  a  certain 
price. 

GRACE.    (Without  looking  at  him)    Yes? 

TOMMY.  (After  a  pause,  during  which  he  has 
looked  at  her  questioningly,  puts  her  in  chair  front 
of  table  R.  and  squats  in  front  of  her)  You  are  not 
paying  attention  to  what  I  said — I  said,  the  day  be 
fore  yesterday  I  gave  him  a  two-day  option.  Don't 
you  see,  he's  got  to  say  something  tonight ! 

GRACE.  How  much  are  you  going  to  charge  him, 
Tommy  ? 

TOMMY.     How  much  do  you  think? 

GRACE.     I  don't  know. 

TOMMY.     Guess ! 

GRACE.     I  couldn't! 

TOMMY.    A  hundred  thousand  dollars! 

GRACE.     No — I  mean  really,  Tommy. 

TOMMY.    That's  the  price. 

GRACE.    Oh,  Tommy,  they'll  never  pay  that ! 

TOMMY.  (Rises)  Yes,  they  will,  Grace.  They 
want  it.  If  I  only  had  the  nerve  to  hold  out,  I  might 
get  even  more  for  it.  (Finishes  tying  his  necktie.) 

GRACE.  (Rising  in  ecstacy)  A  hundred  thousand 
dollars !  (Crosses  -L.)  Oh,  Tommy,  if  you  get  it,  it 
means  New  York,  London,  Paris — and  clothes! 
(Turns  to  TOMMY.) 

TOMMY.  (Crossing  to  her)  You  bet!  We're 
through  with  all  this  economizing.  You  know  now 
why  I  haven't  said  let's  buy  this,  or  let's  spend  that 
— it  was  because  I  needed  every  cent  I  could  rake 
and  scrape  together  to  buy  those  options.  Do  you 


60  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

know,  we  haven't  one  cent  to  our  names  at  the  pres 
ent  moment  ? 

GRACE.     No  ? 

TOMMY.  Not  a  cent!  I  broke  the  last  ten-dollar 
bill  I  had  this  morning.  I  even  took  your  Liberty 
Bond,  Grace ! 

GRACE.     Tommy — you  didn't  do  that? 

TOMMY.  Yes,  I  did,  Grace.  You  said  it  was 
there  in  case  of  need,  and  I  needed  it.  You  don't 
mind,  do  you,  dear? 

GRACE.  No — not  if  you  are  going  to  make  a  lot 
of  money. 

TOMMY.  And  we  are — barrels  of  it!  Barstow — 
(Suddenly  remembering  she  is  still  in  her  apron) — 
say,  you  hurry  and  get  dressed — they'll  be  here  any 
moment  now.  (Pushing  her  off.) 

GRACE.  Goodness,  I  forgot  all  about  them.  (She 
starts  for  door  leading  to  bedroom,  then  turns  and 
embraces  him.)  Oh,  Tommy,  I'm  so  proud  of  you! 
(Exits  L.J 

(HATTIE  enters  from  kitchen,  coat  and  hat  on,  car 
ries  bag — starts  L.  TOMMY  crosses  up  in  front 
of  her.) 

TOMMY.     Where  are  you  going? 

HATTIE.     Home ! 

TOMMY.  (Swings  HATTIE  down)  Oh,  no,  you're 
not — not  yet,  anyway ! 

HATTIE.  (Crying)  I  couldn't  help  it — it  jes* 
slipped  out  of  my  hand. 

TOMMY.  That's  all  right — but  you're  not  going  to 
leave  us — and  I  know  you  will  be  more  careful  in 
the  future. 

HATTIE.  I  ain't  goin'  ter  be  careful  no  more — no 
time.  (Goes  up  to  door  L.) 

TOMMY.     (Catches' her)     You're  not? 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  61 

HATTIE.  No,  sir !  Every  time  I'm  careful,  I  don* 
drap  somethin'. 

TOMMY.  Now,  see  here — you  hang  up  your  hat 
and  coat,  and  here — (Taking  money  from  pocket) — 
here's  a  little  something  extra  for  you  if  you'll  stay! 

HATTIE.  Is  you  sure  Mrs.  Tucker  is  going  to  say 
it's  all  right? 

TOMMY.     Sure  of  it! 

HATTIE.     (Takes  money)     All  right,  I'll  stay. 

TOMMY.  That's  the  girl!  (HATTIE  crosses  up 
R.,  putting  money  down  neck  of  dress.  TOMMY 
stands  looking  after  her,  suddenly  snaps  his  fingers, 
then  crosses  to  door  of  bedroom  and  calls  off.  HAT- 
TIE  stops  and  listens.)  Grace,  oh,  Grace ! 

GRACE.    (Off  stage)    Yes  ? 

TOMMY.    Where  are  the  cocktail  glasses? 

GRACE.  (Off  stage)  In  the  sideboard,  dear! 
(TOMMY  goes  and  gets  glasses.  GRACE  appears  in 
doorway  L.,  in  negligee,  fixing  her  hair.)  What  do 
you  want  them  for? 

TOMMY.     I'm  going  to  make  a  cocktail. 

GRACE.     What  with? 

TOMMY.    Haven't  we  any  gin  in  the  house? 

GRACE.     We  have  not ! 

TOMMY.  Where  is  that  bottle  Nate  Allen  gave  us 
for  a  wedding  present  ? 

GRACE.  Margaret  drank  it.  (HATTIE  at  R.  of 
screen,  hidden  from  them,  takes  package  from  bag 
and  unwraps  it.) 

TOM  MY.     Margaret  ? 

GRACE.    Yes. 

TOMMY.    Why  give  it  to  her? 

GRACE.  Well,  it  always  put  her  in  a  better  humor, 
so  I  gave  it  to  her — drink  by  drink. 

TOMMY.  You  mean  to  say  that  we  haven't  any 
thing  to  drink  at  all? 

GRACE.    There  is  some  of  that  root  beer  I  made. 

TOMMY.    They  wouldn't  care  for  that. 


62  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

GRACE.     It's  very  good,  Tommy. 

TOMMY.  I  know  it,  but  that's  nothing  to  drink 
with  dinner.  (He  stands  disappointed.  GRACE  exits 
into  room  L.J 

HATTIE.  (Crosses  to  c.,  to  TOMMY)  Mr.  Tuck 
er,  did  you-all  want  some  gin  ?  (Showing  him  bottle 
she  takes  from  net  bag.) 

TOMMY.    Why,  Hattie,  where  did  you  get  that? 

HATTIE.  I  gets  it  for  Mammie — she  likes  it  for 
her  misery.  There's  a  colored  gentleman  she  know 
what  makes  it. 

TOMMY.     I  suppose  it's  all  right? 

HATTIE.  Mammie  says  it  is.  She's  been  drinking 
gin  all  her  life. 

TOMMY.  Of  course,  I'm  willing  to  pay  you  for 
this. 

HATTIE.  You-all  were  so  nice  to  me  about  break 
ing  that  dish  I'd  like  to  help  you  out. 

TOMMY.     That's  all  right. 

HATTIE.  You-all  give  me  a  dollar  anyway,  and 
that  only  stands  me  sixty-five  cents. 

TOMMY.  Do  you  know  how  to  make  a  cocktail, 
Hattie? 

HATTIE.  Yessah.  I've  seen  them  make  them 
places  I  have  worked — they  just  squeeze  t'  half  a 
orange  in  a  good-sized  shot  of  gin  and  calls  it  a 
orange  blossom. 

TOMMY.  Yes,  I  have  heard  that,  and  I've  got  some 
oranges  there.  As  neither  Mrs.  Tucker  nor  I  drink, 
you  can  make  two  a  little  weaker — better  put  mostly 
orange  in  two  of  them. 

HATTIE.  Yes,  sir,  I'll  fix  them  like  the  melons — 
two  good  and  two  a  little  worse.  (Crosses  up  and 
exits  to  kitchen.  Bell  rings.) 

TOMMY.  There  they  are!  (Goes  to  door  of  bed 
room,  opening  it)  Grace,  are  you  almost  ready? 
(GRACE  enters,  still  in  negligee.) 

GRACE.    Yes,  hurry  up.    Tommy,  get  Hattie !  (He 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  63 

runs  to  kitchen,  exits,  returns  immediately  with  HAT- 
TIE,  brings  her  down  R.  and  to  c.  GRACE  exits  L. 
and  returns  immediately  with  cap  and  apron,  GRACE 
pins  the  cap  on,  while  TOMMY  ties  the  apron.)  Now, 
you  show  them  in,  Hattie,  and  take  their  things  and 
say  we'll  be  right  in.  (HATTIE  goes  up  L.J 

TOMMY.  (To  GRACE,  as  they  cross  L.J  She  looks 
terrible ! 

GRACE.  I  know,  but  it's  too  late  now.  (Exits 
with  TOMMY.  He  closes  door.  HATTIE  opens  door 
tip  L.  and  MR.  BARSTOW  stands  outside.) 

BARSTOW.     Mr.  Tucker  live  here  ? 

HATTIE.     Come  right  in. 

BARSTOW.  (Standing  in  doorway,  turns  to  wife  in 
hall)  This  is  the  place,  Kitty.  (MRS.  BARSTOW  en 
ters,  crosses  c.  BARSTOW  comes  into  room,  hangs 
hat  on  rack  L.  of  door.  HATTIE  helps  MRS.  B.  off 
with  her  coat,  then  hands  it  back  to  her.) 

HATTIE.  Here  it  is.  (MRS.  B.  takes  wrap  and 
puts  it  on  chair  L.  of  desk.)  You  just  rest  your 
selves,  the  boss  will  be  right  here.  (She  exits  R., 
taking  pitcher  and  oranges  with  her.) 

(BARSTOW  crosses  down  LV  sits  R.  of  table  L.  MRS'. 
BARSTOW  starts  a  survey  of  the  place;  brings 
chair  down  from  desk,  peeps  behind  the  screen, 
and  takes  in  the  place  generally.  Crosses  c., 
sits.) 

BARSTOW.  I  told  you  not  to  expect  too  much. 
Pretty  little  flat,  though. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  (Looks  at  the  table)  Looks  like 
one  of  Goldberg's ! 

BARSTOW.  Don't  try  to  use  any  of  that  comedy 
here  tonight,  because  they  won't  understand  it. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  Don't  have  to  tell  me.  I  know 
they  won't.  I've  played  this  town. 

BARSTOW.    Don't  pull  any,  then. 


64  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

MRS.  BARSTQW.  (Indicating  a  picture  on  wall  up 
L.c.)  Is  that  her? 

BARSTOW.  (In  low  voice)  I  don't  know.  I  never 
saw  her.  (MRS.  BARSTOW  takes  out  a  cigarette.  He 
rises,  crosses  to  her  and  snatches  it  out  of  her  'mouth 
— puts  it  in  his  pocket  as  TOMMY  enters  from  bed 
room.  MRS.  BARSTOW  rises.) 

TOMMY.     Good  evening,  Mr.  Barstow. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.     (Aside)    Oh!  my  God! 

BARSTOW.  (Crosses  to  TOMMY)  Good  evening, 
Mr.  Tucker.  Are  we  early  ? 

TOMMY.     Not  a  bit — not  a  bit. 

BARSTOW.    My  wife,  Mr.  Tucker — Kitty. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.    How  do  you  do  ? 

TOMMY.  Pleased  to  meet  you,  I'm  sure.  (He 
crosses  to  her.) 

BARSTOW.  I  hope  you'll  pardon  us  for  not  being 
able  to  dress — we  got  home  so  late. 

TOMMY.  That's  all  right!  (Crosses  to  lack  of 
chair  R.  of  table,  placing  it  for  her.)  Won't  you  sit 
here,  Mrs.  Barstow?  I  think  you  will  find  it  more 
comfortable. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  This  is  all  right,  thank  you.  (She 
swings  chair  to  face  TOMMY,  and  sits.)  We  have 
just  been  admiring  that  pretty  girl. 

TOMMY.  Mrs.  Tucker.  (All  look  up  L.  of  c.  at 
GRACE'S  picture.) 

MRS.  BARSTOW.    I  thought  so.    She's  stunning. 

TOMMY.  (Back  of  table  L.J  Yes,  Mrs.  Tucker 
was  considered  one  of  the  prettiest,  if  not  the  pret 
tiest,  girl  in  our  home  town. 

BARSTOW.    Have  you  been  married  long? 

TOMMY.     About  a  year. 

BARSTOW.  (To  MRS.  BARSTOW,  in  tone  of  patron 
age  and  meaning  TOMMY  and  GRACE)  Children. 

TOMMY.  (Coming  down  L.,  not  getting  his  drift) 
No,  not  yet. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.    Ha!  ha!     (GRACE  enters.) 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  65 

GRACE.  (Crossing  to  MRS.  BARSTOW,  who  rises) 
I  am  sorry  for  keeping  you  waiting.  How  do  you 
do,  Mrs.  Barstow? 

TOMMY.    This  is  Mrs.  Tucker,  Mrs.  Barstow. 

GRACE.  (Turns  to  MRS.  BARSTOW)  How  do  you 
do,  Mrs.  Barstow? 

TOMMY.  And  Mr.  Barstow.  (There  is  a  general 
greeting  all  around.) 

GRACE.  I  know  you  must  be  starved,  but  I  think 
dinner  is  all  ready.  Will  you  see,  Tommy? 

TOMMY.     One  moment — I — er 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  Sounds  to  me  like  liquor  was  ap 
proaching. 

GRACE.    Oh,  no— I'm  so  sorry,  Mrs.  Barstow. 

TOMMY.    Why,  would  you  care  for  a  cocktail? 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  Would  I  care  for  it?  Outside 
of  a  string  of  pearls,  there's  nothing  I'd  rather  have ! 

(HATTIE  enters  with  four  cocktails  on  a  tray,  comes 
down  R.,  front  of  table  R.) 

GRACE.    But,  Tommy,  we  haven't  any  gin. 

TOMMY.  (Crosses  to  HATTIE  R.  of  c. — BARSTOW 
moves  L.,  front  of  small  table)  Which  are  the  mild 
ones,  Hattie?  (GRACE  sits  on  arm  of  chair  R.  of 
table  L.; 

HATTIE.  (Pointing  to  two  glasses  on  tray)  Them 
two,  Mr.  Tucker! 

TOMMY.  (Takes  the  stronger  two  and  passes  them 
to  MR.  and  MRS.  BARSTOW,  then  the  mild  one  to 
GRACE.)  You  see,  as  neither  my  wife  nor  I  drink,  I 
had  ours  made  a  little  weaker.  (MRS.  BARSTOW 
sits.  HATTIE  exits.) 

GRACE.    You  sly  old  thing. 

TOMMY.  At  times,  dear — at  times.  (Crosses  up 
c.,  passing  in  front  of  GRACE.)  You'll  pardon  me? 
(Gets  the  other  cocktails — gives  one  to  GRACE.  The 


66  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

others  stand  around  as  though  they  were  about  to 
drink  a  toast.) 

.  MRS.  BARSTOW.  (Rising)  Well,  here's  death  and 
destruction  to  care  and  worry.  (She  drinks.)  My 
God !  I'm  poisoned !  (Sits  in  chair  down  c.) 

TOMMY.     Is  it  strong? 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  ( Gives  glass  to  TOMMY)  Strong! 
Boy,  where  did  you  get  that  vitrol? 

GRACE.  (Puts  glass  on  table  L.J  It  is  strong, 
Tommy. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  It  would  make  a  Missouri  mule 
fall  over  in  a  faint !  (TOMMY  takes  glasses  and  puts 
them  on  table  ~L.) 

GRACE.     I'm  so  sorry. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  (Looks  at  BARSTOW — rises)  And 
will  you  look  at  father?  (GRACE  takes  her  chair 
upc.) 

BARSTOW.  (Smiles,  finishing  drink)  That's  the 
best  drink  I  have  had  since  I  left  Texas. 

GRACE.  (Coming  down  R.  of  MRS.  BARSTOW)  I 
hope  the  dinner  will  be  better.  Tommy,  will  you 
take  that  screen  away?  (TOMMY  takes  screen  from 
table  and  puts  it  up  c.)  Would  you  like  to  remove 
your  hat,  Mrs.  Barstow? 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  No,  thanks,  I  look  funnier  with 
it  on! 

GRACE.  Now,  Mrs.  Barstow,  will  you  sit  here — 
(Indicating  chair  front  of  table) — and  Mr.  Barstow 
here — (Indicating  chair  back  of  table.)  You  see, 
we're  all  in  one  room  here. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  Well,  I  think  that's  fine — it's  so 
much  more  convenient. 

TOMMY.  Yes,  we  find  it  quite  comfortable.  (He 
holds  chair  for  MRS.  BARSTOW.  MR.  BARSTOW,  see 
ing  this,  does  the  same  for  GRACE.  They  seat  them 
selves,  GRACE  LV  TOMMY  R.,  MRS.  BARSTOW  down 
stage  and  BARSTOW  up  stage  back  of  table.) 

GRACE.     (Reaches  with  -foot,  trying  to  find  bus- 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  67 

ser)  Is  the  buzzer  on  your  side,  dear?  (TOMMY 
reaches,  trying  to  find  it  with  his  feet — steps  on  MRS. 
BARSTOW'S  foot.  She  screams.) 

TOMMY.  I  beg  your  pardon !  (They  all  look  for 
the  buzzer,  first  TOMMY;  then  BARSTOW,  then  GRACE, 
and  last  MRS.  BARSTOW.  Then  GRACE  finds  it  and 
rings.  There  is  a  pause;  then  the  door  is  kicked 
open  and  HATTIE  enters'  with  a  tray  with  bouillon 
cups  on  it.  She  gets  about  c.,  between  MRS.  BAR- 
STOW  and  TOMMY,,  when  she  catches  GRACE'S  eye, 
zvho  shakes  her  head  no — she  realises  she  has  for 
gotten  the  melon.  She  stops,  turns  about  and  exits.) 

MRS.  BARSTOW.    Well,  that  course  is  all  over. 

GRACE.  Please  excuse  her.  She  realizes  she  had 
made  a  mistake. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  Ah,  that's  all  right,  so  long  as 
she  hasn't  left  for  good.  (HATTIE  enters  with  melon, 
goes  between  TOMMY  and  MRS.  BARSTOW,  in  front 
of  whom  she  puts  melon,  starts  away,  realizes  her 
mistake,  picks  it  up  and  puts  it  on  tray,  puts  another 
piece  of  melon  before  her,  then  gives  TOMMY  the 
melon  she  took  away  from,  MRS.  BARSTOW — then  she 
serves  MR.  BARSTOW.  After  serving  melon,  HATTIE 
exits.  TOMMY  eats  one  spoonful,  then  takes  glass 
of  water  to  wash  taste  out.  TOMMY'S  shirt  bulges 
where  there  isn't  any  button;  he  tries  to  put  it  down, 
but  it  won't  stay.  He  reaches  under  vest  and  pulls 
it  down,  then  folds  arms  over  it.)  Aren't  you  eating 
any  melon,  Mrs.  Tucker  ? 

GRACE.    No,  I'm  dieting — just  stewed  fruits. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  Dieting?  Not  for  your  figure, 
surely.  Gracious,  if  I  had  your  waist  line  I'd  laugh 
right  out  in  a  diet's  face.  (Looks  over  at  BARSTOW, 
who  is  gobbling  up  his  melon.)  Take  it  easy,  Pete 
— you'll  choke  yourself. 

^  BARSTOW.  (Finishing  melon)  Ah,  that  was  de 
licious!  I'm  very  fond  of  melon.  (Looking  round 
to  see  if  there  is  any  more.) 


68  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

GRACE.  (Rather  embarrassed)  Yes,  so  many  peo 
ple  are. 

BARSTOW.  (To  change  the  subject  when  he  finds 
he  isn't  going  to  get  any  more)  Yes,  and  corn ! 

TOMMY.  (Picking  this  up  to  cover  not  offering 
him  more  inelon)  They  raise  a  good  deal  of  corn 
around  this  section,  don't  they?  (GRACE  pushes 
buzzer.) 

BARSTOW.  I  don't  know.  I  don't  know  much  about 
this  part  of  the  country.  (HATTIE  enters  with  four 
soups,  puts  tray  on  small  table  R.,  collects  melon 
plates — MRS.  BARSTOW'S  first,  then  MR.  BARSTOW'S, 
then  TOMMY'S;  then  serves  soup — GRACE,  then  MRS. 
BARSTOW,  then  MR.  BARSTOW,  and  TOMMY,  and  then 
exits  with  tray.) 

GRACE.     I  thought  this  was  your  home? 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  No,  thank  goodness,  and  I'm  not 
leading  any  cheering  section  for  the  town  we  live  in, 
either.  But  this  is  where  they  should  have  had  the 
Federal  prison,  and  just  let  the  prisoners  wander 
about  loose. 

GRACE.     Where  is  your  home? 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  Well,  we  park  our  furniture  in 
Toledo.  But  Pete's  business  keeps  us  travelling  most 
of  the  time. 

GRACE.     That's  what  I  have  always  wanted  to  do. 

TOMMY.  I've  told  Grace  she  should  have  married 
a  conductor.  (They  all  laugh.) 

BARSTOW.  I  stopped  at  your  office  today — about 
three. 

TOMMY.     I  was  back  shortly  after. 

BARSTOW.    I  knew  I'd  see  you  tonight. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  For  goodness'  sake,  don't  start 
talking  business,  Pete. 

GRACE.  Oh,  do  let  them,  Mrs.  Barstow.  I  think 
it  would  be  interesting. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.    Well,  it  isn't.    You  don't  know 


THE  FIRST   YEAR  69 

what  you  are  doing  when  you  give  Pete  a  chance  like 
that. 

GRACE.     Just  what  do  you  do,  Mr.  Barstow? 

BARSTOW.  I  buy  all  the  equipment  and  proper 
ties  the  railroad  has  to  have.  (Makes  a  good  deal 
of  noise  taking  soup.) 

GRACE.  Oh,  I  see.  And  that's  what  you  are  do 
ing  here — buying  property  ? 

BARSTOW.  (To  GRACE)  Yes.  (To  MRS.  BAR- 
STOW)  This  soup  is  delicious,  isn't  it,  dear? 

MRS.  BARSTOW.    Sounds  all  right  to  me. 

GRACE.  You  must  have  Tommy  take  you  out 
sometime  and  show  you  the  land  he  owns,  Mr.  Bar- 
stow.  It's  really  very  pretty.  (HATTIE  enters  with 
water  pitcher  she  has  refilled,  places  it  on  small  table 
R.,  collects  soup  plates  from  GRACE,  MRS.  BARSTOW, 
then  BARSTOW  and  TOMMY,  and  exits.)  It  would 
be  a  lovely  place  for  a  station  if  there  wasi  a  railroad 
there. 

BARSTOW.  Ha,  ha !  Well,  we  don't  buy  property 
because  it's  pretty,  Mrs.  Tucker.  A  desert  might  be 
worth  a  million  dollars,  and  a  garden  spot  wouldn't 
be  worth  a  nickel.  We  buy  where  we  have  to.  I 
know  your  husband's  property.  I've  been  over  every 
foot  of  it. 

GRACE.  Is  that  so?  Were  you  thinking  of  buy 
ing  it  ? 

BARSTOW.  No.  I'm  past  thinking  about  it.  I 
wasn't  going  to  say  anything  until  after  dinner, 
Tucker,  but  I  might  as  well  tell  you  now,  I'm  going 
to  take  up  that  option 

TOMMY.    Ah!    Ah! 

BARSTOW.  And  at  your  price !  (Raises  his  half- 
empty  glass  to  drink.) 

GRACE.  Let  me  give  you  a  little  more  water,  Mr. 
Barstow.  (Rises,  crosses,  gets  pitcher  from  small 
table  R.,  fills  BARSTOW'S  glass;  oj  she  passes  TOMMY 
she  takes  his  hand.  Pats  water  pitcher  on  table  up 


70  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

R.  Doorbell  rings.  GRACE  and  TOMMY  exchange 
looks.  HATTIE  enters  with  plates  and  chicken  on 
tray,  puts  chicken  and  plates  in  front  of  TOMMY  and 
exits.) 

TOMMY.     Who  do  you  suppose  that  is? 

GRACE.  It's  no  one  we  expect — because  there  is 
no  one  in  town  we  know.  (TOMMY  about  to  rise.) 
I'll  go,  Tommy !  (Gets  to*  door,  opens  it,  and  DICK 
LORING  is  discovered  standing  outside.) 

DICK.     Hello,  Grace ! 

GRACE.  Dick!  Dick!  (DiCK  enters.  GRACE 
puts  her  arms  around  his  neck.  TOMMY  rises,  crosses 
up  c.  GRACE  greets  DICK  almost  affectionately. 
She  is  in  a  delirium  of  joy  over  the  last  speech  of 
BARSTOW'S,  and  this  is  a  vent  for  her  enthusiasm. 
TOMMY  doesn't  realize  this.)  Dick,  I  am  glad  to 
see  you !  (Drops  his  hat  on  desk  up  L.  Brings  DICK 
down  by  the  hand.)  Oh,  Dick,  this  is  Mrs.  Barstow, 
and  Mr.  Barstow — Mr.  Loring — and  Tommy ! 

DICK.  (Acknowledges  the  introduction,  then  turns 
to  TOMMY)  Hello,  Tommy!  Well,  well,  I've  never 
seen  you  look  so  funny!  (TOMMY  goes  back  of 
table,  starts  carving.)  Don't  let  me  interrupt  you — 
sit  down — do,  Mr.  Barstow,  and  go  right  on  with 
your  dinner. 

GRACE.     Have  you  had  dinner,  Dick? 

DICK.  Yes,  thank  you.  (GRACE  crosses  to  table 
R.,  sits.)  I  had  something  to  eat  on  the  train.  I  got 
in  about  an  hour  and  a  half  ago. 

TOMMY.  You  didn't  waste  much  time  in  getting 
up  here. 

DICK.    No,  Tommy,  I  didn't. 

TOMMY.    Say,  how  did  you  know  where  we  lived? 

DICK.  Grace's  mother  gave  me  the  address.  I 
have  been  home  for  a  week.  (HATTIE  enters  with 
vegetable  dish,  places  it  in  front  of  GRACE  and  exits.) 
Now,  please  don't  let  me  disturb  you.  (Gets  chair 
from  R.  of  table  L.,  moves  it  c.,  sits.)  I'll  just  sit 


THE   FIRST  YEAR  71 

here  and  chat  awhile.     (TOMMY  gives  GRACE  plate 
to  serve  vegetable.) 

GRACE.    You  saw  mother,  Dick? 

DICK.     Yes. 

GRACE.    How  was  she  looking? 

DICK.  Never  better.  (TOMMY  gives  GRACE  an 
other  plate.) 

GRACE.    And  father? 

DICK.  Yes.  Your  uncle  was  away  at  some  con 
vention  of  doctors,  but  they  tell  me  he's  very  well. 
(DiCK  takes  cigarette  out  of  case  and  lights  it.) 

GRACE.  You'll  pardon  me,  Mrs.  Barstow,  but  it's 
wonderful  to  have  news  from  home. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.    I  know  just  how  you  feel. 

GRACE.  You  see,  Dick  was  almost  one  of  the  fam 
ily. 

DICK.  (With  plenty  of  meaning)  Yes,  that's 
right,  Grace — almost.  (TOMMY  sharpens  the  knife, 
giving  GRACE  a  look  of  warning  to  keep  off  that  sub 
ject.) 

GRACE.  I  should  have  said  you  were  like  one  of 
the  family.  (Eating.)  What  have  you  been  doing, 
Dick? 

DICK.  Well,  since  I  last  saw  you  I  have  been  on 
the  jump.  I  was  down  through  Arizona  for  a  while, 
then  up  in  Washington  State — British  Columbia,  and 
now  the  railroad  has  sent  me  down  here. 

GRACE.    What  a  thrilling  experience ! 

TOMMY.  You  don't  hold  onto  your  jobs  very  long, 
do  you  ? 

DICK.  No,  Tommy,  I  keep  jumping  ahead,  though. 
Every  new  job  has  been  a  boost. 

BARSTOW.  You  are  in  the  railroad  business,  Mr. 
Loring? 

DICK.    Yes,  sir,  construction  department. 

GRACE.    Mr.  Barstow  is  with  a  railroad,  too. 

DICK.    Really !    What  road  ? 

BARSTOW.    Joplin  and  Missouri. 


72  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

DICK.  Oh,  that's  my  road  now.  I've  come  on 
here  to  be  assistant  to  Becket. 

BARSTOW.  Oh,  of  course.  I've  heard  some  very 
fine  things  about  you,  Mr.  Loring. 

GRACE.  I'm  sure  you  have.  We  all  knew  Dick 
would  give  a  good  account  of  himself,  didn't  we, 
Tommy  ? 

TOMMY.  Oh,  yes.  Nobody  would  give  a  better 
account  of  himself  than  Dick.  (Passes  GRACE  last 
plate  for  vegetables.  GRACE  stops  eating,  looks  at 
TOMMY.; 

DICK.  Well,  of  course,  I  will  admit  luck  has 
broken  for  me.  The  answer  to  it  is  I'm  holding 
down  a  very  good  position,  and  I've  had  even  better 
offers. 

BARSTOW.  Yes,  you  come  to  us  with  a  reputation 
of  being  a  pretty  good  judge  where  judgment  is 
needed. 

DICK.     How  have  you  been  doing,  Tommy  ? 

TOMMY.     Oh,  I'm  making  out  all  right. 

GRACE.  Making  out  all  right!  Why,  he's  doing 
splendidly,  Dick.  Tommy  is  going  to  be  a  very  rich 
man! 

DICK.     Tommy  rich  ? 

GRACE.     Hm !     Hm ! 

DICK.     Is  that  so? 

GRACE.  Yes,  Tommy's  sold — : —  (Turns  to  tell 
him.) 

TOMMY.  Never  mind.  Sit  around  and  eat  your 
dinner. 

GRACE.  Oh,  do  let  me  tell  him.  Tommy  has  a 
big  piece  of  property  the  railroad  is  going  to  buy  to 
build  a  new  road. 

DICK.     For  that  new  spur  line? 

TOMMY.    Yes. 

DICK.     Good  boy,  Tommy! 

GRACE.    Tommy  has  been  awfully  clever  about  it. 


«*« 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  73 

It  was  an  old  Amusement  Park,  and  Tommy  found 
out  that 

DICK.     Amusement  Park  ?    Out  by  Hillsboro  ? 

TOMMY.  No,  not  Hillsboro — Knoll  wood.  Great 
Scott,  Hillsboro  is  thirty-five  miles  south  of  there. 

DICK.  (Laughing  sarcastically)  Ha!  So  you  are 
going  to  sell  the  railroad  property  in  Knollwood, 
are  you  ? 

TOMMY.  Yes.  And  now  that  you're  with  jthe 
road,  I  may  charge  them  more  for  it.  (GRACE  gives 
TOMMY  a  look  of  reproach.) 

DICK.  Is  that  what  you  are  counting  on  to  make 
you  rich? 

TOMMY.     Oh,  I  have  other  interests. 

DICK.     I'm  glad  of  that. 

GRACE.    Why,  Dick? 

DICK.  Because  Knollwood's  not  where  the  road's 
to  be  built  at  all. 

GRACE.  (To  DICK)  Oh!  (To  TOMMY)  Oh, 
Tommy ! 

TOMMY.     Oh,  what? 

GRACE.     Did  you  hear  what  he  said? 

TOMMY.  Certainly  I  heard  what  he  said.  What 
does  he  know  about  it  ? 

DICK.  (Laughs)  Well,  I  ought  to  know  some 
thing — I'm  going  to  construct  it ! 

BARSTOW.  Are  you  sure  of  what  you're  saying, 
Loring? 

DICK.    Absolutely ! 

BARSTOW.  If  the  route's  been  changed,  they  have 
not  advised  me. 

DICK.     I  don't  know  anything  about  that. 

BARSTOW.  Tucker,  have  you  got  the  maps  ?  May 
be  Loring  has  the  names  mixed. 

TOMMY.  I'll  get  them  for  you.  (Rises  and  goes 
up  to  desk  c.  Opens  top  and  takes  out  map.) 

DICK.  I'll  draw  you  a  map  of  the  whole  thing. 
(Rises,  crosses  to  BARSTOW  and  sits  in  TOMMY'S 


74  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

place.)  Here — let  me  show  you (Takes  an 

envelope  from  his  pocket  and  a  pencil;  draws  on  en 
velope.)  Here  is  Hillsboro — the  road  comes  down 
this  way  from  Joplin.  Now  here  is  the  way  he 
thinks  it's  to  be  built. 

BARSTOW.     That's  right. 

TOMMY.  (Comes  down  to  R.  of  table)  Now  I'll 
show  you 

DICK.  (Rises)  You  don't  have  to  show  me.  I'll 
bet  you  a  year's  salary  to  the  rent  of  this  flat  that 
I'm  right. 

TOMMY.  I  wouldn't  go  betting  all  my  salary  if  I 
were  you ;  you  may  need  it. 

DICK.  Is  that  so?  Well,  I'll  bet  you  ten  dollars, 
then. 

TOMMY.  (Starts  for  pocket — realises  he  is  ivith- 
out  funds)  I  wouldn't  take  your  money.  (DiCK 
laughs,  and  goes  up  to  windozv.  TOMMY  sits — he 
and  BARSTOW  consult  maps.) 

GRACE.  Don't  mind  them,  Mrs.  Barstow.  At 
home  they  were  always  like  this. 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  What  delightful  evenings  you 
must  have  had. 

BARSTOW.  This  knocks  me  a  twister,  Loring. 
Tucker  and  I  had  practically  concluded  negotiations 
for  his  property. 

DICK.     Oh,  are  you  the  right-of-way  agent? 

BARSTOW.     Yes. 

DICK.  Well,  I  didn't  mean  to  queer  your  sale, 
Tommy. 

TOMMY.     Oh,  don't  worry. 

BARSTOW.  (DiCK  crosses  to  c.)  Of  course,  your 
gang  ought  to  know  where  they  are  going,  and  what 
you  say  makes  me  hesitate. 

TOMMY.  I  don't  mind  you  hesitating — only  re 
member,  your  option  for  this  property  is  up  tonight. 

DICK.     Don't  be  silly!     Tommy,  your  property 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  75 

isn't  worth  a  nickel  as  far  as  the  railroad  is  con 
cerned. 

TOMMY.     Say,  what  is  this — a  frame-up? 

BARSTOW.     What  do  you  mean  ? 

TOMMY.  Just  what  I  said.  What  is  Loring  to  dp 
— tell  me  this  property  is  no  good  so  you  can  get  it 
for  nothing? 

BARSTOW.  (Rising)  That's  not  the  way  I  work, 
Mr.  Tucker.  I  try  to  get  all  things  as  reasonable  as 
I  can  for  the  interests  I  represent,  but  I  don't  accept 
the  hospitality  of  any  man  and  try  to  do  him  at  the 
same  time. 

DICK.  (Goes  L.J  That's  a  nice  thing  to  say  to  a 
guest. 

GRACE.     I  should  say  so !    Tommy,  I'm  surprised. 

TOMMY.  (A  bit  ashamed)  I  didn't  mean  to  say 
it.  I  really  shouldn't  even  have  thought  it  of  a  guest. 

DICK.    'Oh.  that's  better.     (Starts  to  sit.) 

TOMMY.    (To  DICK)    But  you're  not  a  guest! 

DICK.     No  ? 

TOMMY.  No.  A  guest  is  somebody  who's  been 
invited. 

GRACE.     Tommy  Tucker ! 

BARSTOW.  (To  GRACE)  I  think  under  the  circum 
stances,  the  best  thing  for  Mrs.  Barstow  and  me  to 
do  is — retire !  (Crosses  to  hatrack — gets  hat. ) 

GRACE.     Please  don't!    (MRS.  BARSTOW  rises.) 

BARSTOW.     I  really  think  it's  best ! 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  (Crosses  up  L.)  He  who  must 
be  obeyed.  (Meaning  she  has  no  voice  in  the  mat 
ter.) 

DICK.  As  I  seem  to  be  a  disturbing  element,  I'll 
get  back  to  the  hotel.  (Crosses  up  to  get  hat,  helps 
MRS.  BARSTOW  with  her  wrap.) 

TOMMY.  (Crosses  down  R.  to  front  of  table)  I'm 
sorry,  Mr.  Barstow ! 

BARSTOW.     Never  mind   that— this   is  business. 


76  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

(Crossing  to  TOMMY)  I'd  like  to  have  another  day 
on  that  option. 

TOMMY.     No,  sir,  that  option  is  up  tonight. 

BARSTOW.  Well,  I'm  not  ready  to  give  you  an  an 
swer  now. 

TOMMY.  I  can't  help  that.  I  know  you  want  it, 
and  tomorrow  it  will  cost  you  more. 

BARSTOW.  Oh,  I  guess  not.  (Crosses  up  to 
GRACE.) 

MRS.  BARSTOW.  Good  night,  dear  girl.  I'm  sorry. 
I  hope  it  will  come  out  all  right.  (Speech  continues) 
Good  night,  Mr.  Tucker. 

BARSTOW.  I'm  sorry,  Mrs.  Tucker,  but  I  think 
this  will  make  it  more  comfortable  for  all  of  us. 
Good  night ! 

LORING.  Wait  a  minute,  Barstow.  I'll  go  along 
with  you.  (Crosses  to  GRACE)  I'm  sorry,  Grace. 

GRACE.  Tommy  has  been  working  very  hard  late 
ly,  and  his  nerves 

DICK.  Oh,  I  don't  mind  Tommy.  I'll  call  some 
time  when  he's  feeling  better.  (Turns  to  go,  then 
turns  to  TOMMY)  Good  night,  Tommy!  All  right, 
Barstow!  (Exits  with  MR.  and  MRS.  BARSTOW. 
GRACE  stands  at  door  for  a  second,  then  comes  down 
L.,  sits  L.  of  table  L.,  starts  to  cry.) 

TOMMY.  (Crossing  to  her)  Please  don't  cry, 
Grace.  What  are  you  crying  for  ? 

GRACE.  Didn't  you  say  that  we  hadn't  a  cent  in 
the  world? 

TOMMY.  Then  you  don't  think  this  deal  is  going 
through  ? 

GRACE.  You  are  just  obstinate.  Dick  says  you're 
wrong. 

TOMMY.  You  mean  to  say  you'd  believe  him  in 
stead  of  your  husband? 

GRACE.  Yes — (TOMMY  goes  R.,  then  up,  then 
down  to  her) — when  he's  talking  about  his  own  busi 
ness. 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  77 

TOMMY.  I  don't  think  that  he  knows  so  much 
about  his  own  business.  , 

GRACE.  Oh,  yes,  he  does — otherwise  he  wouldn't 
be  in  the  position  he  is  in. 

TOMMY.  (Crosses  R.)  I  don't  think  he's  got  such 
a  good  position,  either. 

GRACE.  Oh,  yes,  he  has — Mr.  Barstow  said  so, 
too.  It  just  means  we  have  lost  all  our  little  money 
— (TOMMY  crosses  up  L.J — and  my  Liberty  Bond! 
(TOMMY  stops  short.)  You've  gone  and  lost  my 
Liberty  Bond!  (TOMMY  goes  down  c.)  You  had 
no  right  to  do  that — you  know  you  hadn't. 

TOMMY.    You  said  it  would  be  all  right. 

GRACE.  I  said  it  would  be  all  right  because  you 
said  you  were  going  to  make  a  lot  of  money.  (Cries.) 

TOMMY.  Don't  you  worry  about  our  not  having 
a  lot  of  money.  (Crosses  up  c.  and  then  down  L.j 

GRACE.  But  I  do.  I  guess  we'll  always  be  just 
nothing,  Tommy — always  live  in  flats.  I'll  do  my 
own  cooking,  and  make  my  own  dresses,  and  you'll 
always  wear  clothes  that  don't  fit  and  shirts  that 
bulge  in  front ! 

TOMMY.     Oh,  no,  I  won't ! 

GRACE.  Yes,  you  will.  And  we'll  have  to  put  on 
a  brave  front  to  our  friends  and  say,  "We're  doing 
very  nicely,"  just  as  we  had  to  say  it  to  Dick  to 
night. 

TOMMY.  How  do  you  know  he  was  telling  the 
truth? 

GRACE.  Oh,  you  just  sort  of  know  it  when  a  man 
is  really  successful.  Dick  always  called  you  a  good 
insurance  agent,  but  he  doesn't  think  you  ought  to  go 
in  for  real  estate  deals. 

TOMMY.  (Crosses  to  c.,  bursting  with  resent 
ment)  Is  that  so?  Well,  I  am  just  a  little  bit  tired 
of  hearing  what  Mr.  Loring  has  to  say,  and  for  two 
pins  I'd  go  over  to  his  hotel  and  tell  him  what  I 
think  of  him!  (Crosses  R.J 


78  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

GRACE.     Well,  you  won't. 

TOMMY.    (Goes  up  c.)    No? 

GRACE.  (Rises)  No!  You've  behaved  badly 
enough  for  one  night. 

TOMMY.  (Comes  down  c.)  Well,  I  don't  think 
you've  behaved  so  very  well  for  a  respectable  mar 
ried  woman. 

GRACE.     (Comes  to  him)     What  did  I  do? 

TOMMY.  Vvhat  did  you  do?  I  thought  you  were 
going  to  kiss  him  when  he  came  in. 

GRACE.  I  don't  see  what  harm  there'd  have  been 
if  I  had. 

TOMMY.  I'll  tell  you  what  harm  there'd  have  been 
— that  other  vegetable  dish  would  have  been  busted ! 

GRACE.    (Goes  up  L.  and  sobs  in  curtain)    Ah ! 

TOMMY.  You'd  think  if  he  was  such  a  great 
friend  of  ours  that  he  would  have  kept  quiet  when  he 
knew  I  had  a  business  deal  on — but  he  can't  do  that ! 
No  !  He  has  to  tell  all  he  thinks  he  knows  !  I  wish 
now  I'd  punched  him ! 

GRACE.  (Comes  down  L.J  Well,  you'd  better  not 
— you'd  get  the  worst  of  it. 

TOMMY.  (Goes  and  sits  R.  of  table  "L.)  You  don't 
think  I'm  any  good  at  all,  do  you,  Grace  ?  Do  you, 
Grace  ? 

GRACE.  (Goes  back  of  him,  then  front  to  L.J 
You're  tired,  Tommy.  What  you  need  is  sleep. 
You'd  better  come  to  bed. 

TOMMY.     I'm  all  right. 

GRACE.     Come  on !    (Goes  to  door  ~L.) 

TOMMY.     No.     I'm  not  going  to  bed ! 

GRACE.     What  are  you  going  to  do  ? 

TOMMY.     I  don't  know.     I  may  go  out.    (Pause.) 

GRACE.    Out  where? 

TOMMY.  What  difference  does  it  make  to  you? 
Maybe  it  would  be  better  if  I  went  out  and  never 
come  back !  At  least  you  would  have  an  insurance  ! 


THE  FIRST   YEAR  79 

GRACE.  Tommy !  (Puts  chair  up  back  of  her.) 
Don't  you  talk  that  way — I  won't  have  it! 

TOMMY.  Well,  that's  better  than  living  with  a 
man  who  can't  support  you.  That's  one  way  a  fel 
low  can  make  money  for  his  wife — even  a  boob ! 

GRACE.     Stop  it,  I  say ! 

TOMMY.  (Realizing  that  he  is  on  a  topic  that 
hurts)  Maybe  you'd  rather  have  me  wait  until  I 
take  out  another  policy — enough  to  take  you  to  Lon 
don  or  Paris (GRACE  rushes  off  L.  TOMMY 

rises,  goes  to  door  L.,  speaks  off)  You  know  some 
day  I'll  surprise  you  with  the  money  I'll  have.  (He 
crosses  to  table,  drinks  cocktail,  returns  to  door.) 
I'll  show  you  I  can  be  just  as  successful  as  Dick 
Loring!  (Goes  to  c.,  front  of  table,  then  back  to 
door.)  I'll  bet  he'll  be  around  some  day  trying  to 
borrow  money  from  me — and  I'd  like  to  see  him  get 
it — that's  all!  (Goes  c.,  back  to  table,  then  back  to 
door.)  That's  what  always  makes  a  hit  with  you 
women — all  a  fellow's  got  to  do  is  to  put  on  a  suit 
of  clothes  that's  pressed  and  talk  big,  and  he  can 
make  you  think  he  is  president  of  the  road.  (GRACE 
slams  the  door  on  him.  He  goes  c.,  thinking,  then 
goes  to  table  RV  sits,  looks  at  map.)  I  know  darn 
well  that  railroad  is  coming  my  way!  (Tears  up 
DICK'S  envelope  and  examines  map  in  disgust. 
GRACE  enters  with  bag  and  umbrella,  her  hat  and 
coat  on.  TOMMY  looks  at  her  in  astonishment. 
GRACE  puts  bag  and  umbrella  on  chair,  starts  putting 
on  her  gloves.)  Where  are  you  going? 
GRACE.  I'm  going  home ! 

TOMMY.      (Crossing    to    her)      You — why 

Don't  be  silly ! 

GRACE.  I'm  not  silly!  I  can't  stand  it,  Tommy. 
If  I  stay  here  any  longer,  my  nerves  will  just  go 
like  that (Snaps  finger.)  That's  all.  I'm  go 
ing  to  get  that  nine-twenty  train  and  go  home. 


8o  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

TOMMY.  You  take  those  things  off,  because  you 
are  not  going  to  do  any  such  thing. 

GRACE.     I'm  not,  eh  ? 

TOMMY.  No,  you're  not.  You're  not  going  to 
leave  this  house. 

GRACE.     What  did  you  say? 

TOMMY.     I  said  you'll  not  leave  this — flat. 

GRACE.     Who's  going  to  prevent  me? 

TOMMY.     I  am! 

GRACE.     Oh,  no,  you're  not. 

TOMMY.  I'm  not,  eh?  Well,  you  try  and  see! 
(GRACE  picks  up  bag  and  umbrella,  starts  for  door. 
TOMMY  gets  in  front  of  her.)  Now,  Grace,  don't 
be  silly ! 

GRACE.  Get  out  of  my  way,  please!  (TOMMY 
still  blocks  her  way.  She  pushes  him  and  again  tries 
to  make  the  door.  He  gets  her  by  the  wrist  and 
holds  her,  and  they  struggle.)  Don't!  Don't  you 
hold  me  that  way,  Tommy  Tucker !  You're  hurting 
me! 

TOMMY.  (Releases  her)  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt 
you,  but  you  shouldn't  have  tried  to  go  out  of  that 
door  when  I  told  you  not  to ! 

GRACE.     You  are  not  to  give  orders  to  me! 

TOMMY.  It's  that  fellow  Loring  that's  gotten  you 
upset,  and  I'm  not  going  to  give  him  the  chance  to 
break  up  our  home! 

GRACE.  Dick  Loring  has  nothing  to  do  with  it  at 
all,  and  don't  you  even  dare  suggest  it !  I  have  tried 
to  be  everything  a  wife  should  be  to  you,  but  you're 
just  impossible,  that's  all,  and  I  want  to  go  home  to 
my  mother !  (Crosses  down,  sits  in  chair  L.) 

TOMMY.  The  trouble  with  you  is  that  you're  train 
crazy.  There  isn't  one  good  reason  in  the  world  for 
your  acting  like  this,  except  that  you  want  to  go  some 
place.  (Crosses  R.) 

GRACE.  That's  just  about  as  sensible  as  most 
things  you  say. 


THE  FIRST   YEAR  81 

TOMMY.  Well,  it's  so.  You  wouldn't  marry  me 
unless  we  left  town.  The  moment  I  tell  you  I'm 
going  to  make  a  little  bit  of  money,  your  first  thought 
is  getting  on  board  a  boat  or  a  train,  and  travelling 
some  place.  You  can't  stay  still  for  five  minutes ! 

GRACE.  (Drops  bag  and  umbrella)  I  can't  stay 
still  ?  I've  stayed  still  in  this  stuffy  little  flat,  in  this 
dirty  little  city,  with  no  one  to  talk  to  and  nothing 
to  do  but  cook  and  sew  for  you,  for  eleven  months ! 

TOMMY.  Well,  I  never  wanted  to  come  to  Jop- 
lin! 

GRACE.  Yes,  you  did!  You  said  you  could  do 
business  here.  Well,  you  have  done  it — and  a  fine 
business  you  have  done !  A  master-stroke ! 

TOMMY.  If  you'd  keep  quiet  for  one  minute,  I'd 
like  to  have  one  last  word  with  you.  Of  course,  I 
don't  expect  to  get  it.  (GRACE  picks  up  bag  and 
umbrella,  rises,  goes  to  door.)  You  understand  this 
— if  you  go  out  of  that  door,  you  and  I  are  through ! 

GRACE.     Of  course  we  are ! 

TOMMY.     I  mean  it. 

GRACE.    I  hope  you  do — so  do  I!    (Opens  door.) 

jr~+  111  *  *  ' 

Good-bye ! 

TOMMY.  Good-bye!  (GRACE  exits.  TOMMY 
stands  for  a  moment,  listening.)  My  God,  she  did 
it!  (He  sees  cocktail  on  table,  and  drinks  it  at  a 
gulp.  Takes  off  coat,  throws  it  on  chair  L.  of  desk.) 
All  right.  Let's  see  how  far  she'll  go  with  it  1  I'll 
bet  I  can  be  just  as  obstinate  as  she  is.  (He  is  now 
showing  a  little  effect  and  begins  talking  to  an  im 
aginary  GRACE.)  If  you  had  said  to  me— Tommy, 
you  are  wrong — Tommy,  you  are  all  wrong,  very 
likely  I'd  have  said,  I  know  it,  Grace,  I  know  it! 
But  not  when  you  speak  to  me  the  way  you  did.  Let 
me  ask  you  something — haven't  I  been  a  good  hus 
band?  I've  tried  to  be  thoughtful  and  considerate. 
I  haven't  even  looked  at  another  woman !  I  couldn't 
have  thrown  my  arms  around  a  man  who  wasn't  my 


82  THE    FIRST  YEAR 

husband,  if  I'd  been  a  wife,  the  way  you  did!  I 
wouldn't  do  that !  But  you  did,  you  did,  and  that's 
what  hurts — it  hurts  me  here.  You  don't  know  how 
it  hurts  me,  Grace !  (He  takes  cocktail  and  drinks 
a  little  of  it.  Goes  down  L.  HATTIE  enters  from 
kitchen.) 

HATTIE.  I've  been  waiting  for  the  longest  time 
for  the  bell  to  ring ! 

TOMMY.  The  bell's  rung  and  they've  counted  ten 
— and  everybody's  out!  (Starts  to  drink  cocktail.) 

HATTIE.  Lordy,  Mr.  Tucker,  don't  drink  that 
cocktail ! 

TOMMY.     Why  not? 

HATTIE.  That's  warm  standin'  all  this  time.  Let 
me  stir  you  up  another  one.  (Starts  R.) 

TOMMY.  All  right,  Hattie,  stir  me  up  another. 
(HATTIE  exits  into  kitchen.  Calls  after  her)  Hat- 
tie,  Hattie !  Stir  me  up  a  lot  of  them.  (Goes  up  c. 
to  phonograph,  puts  on  a  record,  and  winds  it.)  You 
stir  up  the  cocktails,  Hattie,  and  we'll  put  on  a  record 

and  show  them  that  we  don't  care (Doorbell 

rings.  TOMMY  gives  one  triumphant  look.)  Now, 
Tommy,  just  remember — she's  only  a  woman — and 
forgive  her.  (Goes  to  door,  throws  it  open,  and  BAR- 
STOW  stands  outside.)  Oh! 

BARSTOW.  What's  the  matter — has  Mrs.  Tucker 
retired  ? 

TOMMY.  Yes,  Mrs.  Tucker's  retired!  (Crosses 
to  back  of  chair,  L.  of  table  R.J 

BARSTOW.  Would  I  disturb  her?  I  really  would 
like  to  see  you. 

TOMMY.  All  right.  Come  in!  (BARSTOW  comes 
down  c.,  sits  R.  of  table  L.  HATTIE  enters  with 
pitcher,  stirring  contents  with  a  spoon.)  Hattie,  get 
a  glass  for  Mr.  Barstow.  (HATTIE  gives  pitcher  to 
him,  gets  glass  from  closet  down  R.,  puts  it  on  table 
and  exits  R.)  I'm  just  having  a  little  drink !  (He 
crosses  to  back  of  table  ~L.) 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  83 

BARSTOW.    So  I  notice! 

TOMMY.    What's  your  little  trouble? 

BARSTOW.  It's  about  that  transaction  of  ours. 
Now,  I  want  to  put  my  cards  on  the  table  with  you, 
Mr.  Tucker — be  fair  and  aboveboard. 

TOMMY.     Certainly. 

BARSTOW.  A  week  ago  I  was  commissioned  to  get 
that  piece  of  land  you  own.  I  have  been  dickering 
with  you  all  the  time  because  I  wanted  to  get  it  as 
cheap  as  possible. 

TOMMY.     Nacherly.     (Drinks.) 

BARSTOW.  When  Loring  made  the  statement  he 
did  tonight,  I  had  a  feeling  he  was  wrong,  and  yet 
it  seemed  to  me,  as  he  was  in  the  construction  end 
of  the  game,  he  ought  to  know  what  he  was  talking 
about. 

TOMMY.  (Stops  drinking,  and  silencing  BAR- 
STOW  with  a  gesture)  Listen,  Pete,  I've  known  that 
fellow  longer  than  you  have,  and  he's  never  known 
what  he's  talking  about. 

BARSTOW.  Well,  he  didn't  tonight!  I  thought 
possibly  the  plans  had  been  switched,  and  that  some 
how  they  had  muffed  advising  me.  But  I  got  Fris- 
bee,  the  president,  on  the  'phone  the  moment  I  left 
here,  and  what  he  said  about  your  friend  Loring — 

TOMMY.     He's  no  friend  of  mine !     Whateesay  ? 

BARSTOW.  Said  what  the  hell  would  Loring  know 
about  his  plans !  That  when  he  was  trying  to  build 
railroads  he  wasn't  in  the  habit  of  telling  every  un 
derling  what  he  intended  doing! 

TOMMY.     Did  he  call  him  an  underling? 

BARSTOW.    That's  the  mildest  thing  he  called  him ! 

TOMMY.  (Pours  out  drink,  chuckling  to  himself, 
goes  dotwi  L.,  sits)  Underling !  I  gotter  remember 
that — it's  a  good  'un 

BARSTOW.  So  that  arrangement  of  ours  is  all 
right. 

TOMMY.    Is  that  so?    Who  told  you  all  that? 


84  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

BARSTOW.    Well,  isn't  it?     You  agreed  to  sell! 

TOMMY.  And  you  agreed  to  buy,  but  you  re- 
nigged  ! 

BARSTOW.  Oh,  no,  I  didn't!  I  went  out*to  tele 
phone  and  see  if  you  weren't  right. 

TOMMY.     Not  if  I  weren't — if  Loring  was. 

BARSTOW.    Well,  put  it  that  way. 

TOMMY.  Yes,  if  he  had  been,  you'd  have  said  the 
deal's  all  off,  and  as  long  as  he  wasn't,  I  say  the  deal's 
all  off! 

BARSTOW.  You  gave  me  your  word  you'd  sell  at 
a  price,  and  I  think  you  ought  to  stand  on  your 

word.  Now,  here  is  a  certified  check (Rises, 

goes  above  table,  takes  check  out  of  pocketbook, 
which  he  gets  from  inside  pocket.)  I  brought  with 
me  tonight  for  twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  (He 
hands  check  to  TOMMY.)  That  ought  to  be  proof 
enough  of  my  intentions  when  I  came  here 

TOMMY.     When  you  came  here — yes. 

BARSTOW.  Well,  I'll  give  you  the  other  seventy- 
five  thousand  when  the  deeds  are  made  over. 

TOMMY.     That's  only  a  hundred  thousand. 

BARSTOW.    Well,  that  was  your  price. 

TOMMY.  That  was  my  price,  but  when  you  left 
so  suddenly,  the  price  jumped  fifty  thousand  dollars. 
(Puts  check  on  BARSTOW'S  hat,  that  is  on- table,  takes 
a  drink.) 

BARSTOW.     I  won't  pay  it. 

TOMMY.     You  won't,  eh? 

BARSTOW.  No !  (Picks  up  check,  puts  on  hat,  puts 
check  in  inside  pocket.)  That's  the  best  you'll  do  ? 

TOMMY.     (Rises)     What  time  is  it? 

BARSTOW.  (Takes  out  watch)  Not  quite  nine 
o'clock ! 

TOMMY.  (Looks  at  watch)  That's  right.  It's 
nearer  tomorrow  than  when  I  made  you  the  propo 
sition,  so  I'll  compromise  with  you — it's  a  hundred 
and  twenty-five  thousand. 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  85 

BARSTOW.     But  I  say 

TOMMY.  Want  it?  Because  if  you  don't,  I'll 
take  it  out  and  sell  it  to  someone  who  will  sting  you 
good. 

BARSTOW.  All  right,  a  hundred  and  twenty-five 
thousand. 

TOMMY.     All  right! 

BARSTOW.     All  right. 

TOMMY.  (Goes  front  of  table  L.  and  up  c.  to  desk 
— BARSTOW  takes  out  check,  puts  it  on  table)  And 
so  we  won't  have  any  more  complications,  I'll  tell 
you  what  to  do — you  put  your  proposition  on  paper, 
and  to-morrow — (Coining  back  to  BARSTOW  with 
pen  and  paper) — when  I  feel  better,  and  something 
tells  me  I  won't,  I'll  write  you  an  acceptance. 

BARSTOW.     Well,  that's  not  exactly  the  way 

TOMMY.     You  want  it? 

BARSTOW.  (Sitting  and  writing)  You're  a  tough 
customer  to  do  business  with. 

TOMMY.  I'm  a  smart  business  man.  The  trou 
ble  with  me  is  I  don't  drink  enough.  (Takes  an 
other  drink.)  You  think  I'm  smart? 

BARSTOW.     I  think  you  are! 

TOMMY.  You  bet  your  life  I  am!  I'm  going  to 
be  rich !  I'm  going  to  have  a  great  big  house  with 
lots  of  servants,  and  a  railroad  track  running  all 
round  it  and  an  engine  and  pullman  car,  so  my  wife 
can  go  out  and  travel  any  time  she  wants  to.  All 
my  clothes  are  going  to  fit  me — the  only  thing  I'll 
wear  that  won't  be  made  to  order  will  be  an  um 
brella. 

BARSTOW.  (Extends  a  note)  There — look  that 
over. 

TOMMY.  (Examines  note  critically)  Seems  per 
fectly  all  right. 

BARSTOW.  (Pointing)  And  there's  your  check. 
(Crosses  up  to  door.)  I'll  see  you  in  the  morning. 

TOMMY.    Not  too  early!     (Picks  up  check.) 


86  THE  FIRST  YEAR 

BARSTOW.    Good  night! 

TOMMY.  Say,  tell  the  president  to  take  the  extra 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars  out  of  the  underling's 
salary. 

BARSTOW.  I'll  bet  he'll  feel  like  taking  it  out  of 
his  hide — I  do!  (Exits  up  L.,  closing  door.) 

TOMMY.  Twenty-five  thousand !  Loring  will  have 
to  work  fourteen  years  for  that.  (Chuckles.)  Grace 
thinks  I'm  not  as  smart  as  he  is,  but  when  I  tell  her 

about  this •    (Realizes  and  stops.)    Now,  you  see, 

that  goes  and  spoils  everything (Remembers 

phonograph,  goes  up  and  starts  it — Tosti's  "Good- 
Bye."  HATTIE  enters  from  kitchen,  comes  to  where 
TOMMY  is  standing.) 

HATTIE.     I'm  going  home  now. 

TOMMY.  All  right.  (Comes  down  c.  and  pushes 
armchair  into  place.) 

HATTIE.  (Comes  down  c.)  Does  you  all  want  to 
pay  me  now? 

TOMMY.     How  much  is  it? 

HATTIE.     Dollar  and  a  half ! 

TOMMY.     (Offering  her  money)    There's  a  five! 

HATTIE.     I  ain't  got  no  change  for  that. 

TOMMY.  I  don't  want  any  change — that's  for  you 
— I'm  a  rich  man,  Hattie. 

HATTIE.  (Takes  m-oney,  crosses  back  of  him  up 
c.)  You  don't  act  like  one.  Still,  I  thanks  you 
kindly.  You  better  not  let  Mrs.  Tucker  know  that, 
though. 

TOMMY.  Mrs.  Tucker  wouldn't  care,  Hattie — 
Mrs.  Tucker  has  left  me ! 

HATTIE.     What  are  you  saying  to  me? 

TOMMY.  It's  true.  (HATTIE  is  c.)  See  that? 
That's  a  check  for  twenty-five  thousand  dollars. 

HATTIE.    What? 

TOMMY.    Twenty-five  thousand  dollars — certified. 

HATTIE.     Um — m-m-m-m-m ! 

TOMMY.    And  I'd  give  that  to  Mrs.  Tucker  to  do 


THE   FIRST  YEAR  87 

what  she  pleased  with  it  if  she  were  here — but  she's 
gone — she  left  me. 

HATTIE.  That's  too  bad,  Mr.  Tucker.  (Starts 
for  door.) 

TOMMY.  Wait  a  minute,  Hattie.  (HATTIE  stops.) 
When  we  were  married,  everybody  said  the  first 
year  of  married  life  was  the  toughest  time  two  peo 
ple  could  go  through,  and  I  didn't  think  they  knew 
what  they  were  talking  about,  but  they  were  right, 
Hattie — it  is — it  is ! 

HATTIE.  Yes,  Mr.  Tucker.  (Starts  for  door 
again.) 

TOMMY.  Wait  a  minute,  Hattie.  (HATTIE  stops.) 
Are  you  married  ? 

HATTIE.     Not  yet. 

TOMMY.     Are  you  gonner  be? 

HATTIE.     I  got  an  offer! 

TOMMY.  Well,  then,  you  take  a  tip  from  an  old 
married  man,  Hattie — don't  you  get  married  until  the 
second  year. 

HATTIE.     Yes,  Mr.  Tucker.     (Exits.) 

TOMMY.  (Gets  GRACE'S  picture  from  desk,  goes 
down,  sits  in  chair  down  c.,  mumbling)  Silly  girl ! 
Silly  girl!  (He  holds  check  before  the  photo  to 
show  GRACE  what  she  has  lost.  As  he  sits,  the  pho 
nograph  gets  to  the  words,  "Good-bye  forever." 
TOMMY  looks  up  stage  at  it,  kisses  GRACE'S  picture 
and  puts  it  up'  to  his  face  as  the  curtain  falls.) 

CURTAIN 


ACT   III 


SCENE:   Same  as  Act  I.    Five  days  later  than  Act 
II. 

It  is  ten-thirty  Sunday  morning.  Sunlight 
streams  in  from  porch  window  R. 

GRACE  is  discovered  in  armchair  L.  of  table  R., 
writing  a  letter. 

As  curtain  rises  she  is  writing  furiously.  She  sobs 
at  something  she  has  written,  looks  about  table 
for  her  handkerchief,  finds  it  on  the  floor  at  her 
feet,  wipes  her  eyes,  calms  herself  and  begins 
writing  again.  Finishes  letter,  collects  six  sheets 
from  table  and  arranges  them  in  order,  begins 
reading  what  she  has  written. 

She  reads  first  sentence,  thinks,  gets  pen, 
scratches  something  out,  reads  again.  The  next 
sentence  seems  even  worse.  She  suddenly 
springs  up  and  tears  letter  up,  goes  up  stage  and 
throws  pieces  in  fireplace,  comes  back  to  table, 
gets  another  sheet,  picks  up  pen,  dips  it  in  ink, 
then  pauses,  thinking  how  to  make  another  be 
ginning,  then  throws  down  pen,  sinks  her  head 
in  her  arm  on  the  table  and  sobs. 

Church  bell  rings. 

After  a  moment  slie  hears  someone  coming, 
rises  quickly,  grabs  book  from  table  RV  goes 
front  of  table  to  couch  R.C.,  sits,  pretends  to 
read. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON  enters  from  upstairs.  She 
is  dressed  for  church,  and  carries  hat,  gloves  and 
cloak.  She  puts  them  on  chair  L.  of  c.,  sees 
table  is  untidy  with  GRACE'S  writing  things,  goes 


THE  FIRST  YEAR  89 

down  to  straighten  it  up.    Sees  GRACE,  stops  and 
looks  at  her. 

The  church  bell  rings  every  fifteen  seconds 
until  after  GRACE'S  exit. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I  thought  you  were  upstairs, 
getting  ready. 

GRACE.     I'm  not  going  to  church,  mother. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     (Surprised)     Why  not? 

GRACE.     Oh,  I  don't  feel  like  it. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  You  ought  to  come,  Grace — 
what'll  folks  think?  (Looks  at  GRACE,  takes  up 
writing  pad,  goes  up  to  desk  R.  of  door  c.,  puts  it 
away.) 

GRACE.  I  can't  help  what  they  think — and  I've — 
I've  got  a  letter  to  write. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    To  Tommy? 

GRACE.    Yes. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Well,  I  don't  like  your  staying 
away  from  church  on  your  first  Sunday  home.  (She 
pauses,  looks  at  GRACE,  who  is  pretending  to  read, 
then  goes  up  c.  and  calls  upstairs)  Fred — Fred ! 

LIVINGSTON.  (Off  stage)  Eh?  What  do  you 
want? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     The  first  hell,  dear. 

LIVINGSTON.     (Off  stage)     What? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    The  church  bell. 

LIVINGSTON.  All  right.  We've  got  half  an  hour 
yet. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Comes  back  into  room  and 
again  regards  GRACE,  coming  down  R.  of  c.)  You 
don't  expect  Tommy  today,  then? 

GRACE.     I  don't  know. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Sits  L.  of  table  R.)  You 
wouldn't  stay  home  from  church  to  write  to  him  if 
you  thought  he  was  coming  today,  would  you? 

GRACE.    Yes— if  I  wasn't  sure! 


90  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  But  you  said  you  were  sure 
he'd  be  here  before  this. 

GRACE.  (Rises,  crosses  to  window  Rv  stands  look 
ing  out)  Yes,  I  thought  so.  I  expected  him  to — to 
— to  follow  me. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  That  was  five  days  ago.  If 
I  were  you  I  would  be  worried  to  death. 

GRACE.  (Trying  to  restrain  her  irritation,  crosses 
itp  and  looks  out  French  windows)  It's  probably  the 
business  about  all  that  land  he  bought — that's  keep 
ing  him ! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  You  don't  think  he's  lost 
money  on  that  land,  do  }^ou,  Grace? 

GRACE.  (Breaking  out)  I  don't  know,  Mother. 
(Throws  book  on  sofa  R.,  crosses  L.)  You  can  ask 
him  when  he  comes. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Also  angry)  I  mean  to.  I 
can't  seem  to  get  anything  out  of  you. 

GRACE.  (Crosses  to  R.  of  c.  to  MRS.  LIVINGSTON, 
fighting  down  her  feelings  and  speaking  quietly) 
What  is  it  you  want  to  know  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Still  angry)  I'd  like  to  know 
why  you  reached  home  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  why  you've  kept  in  the  house  the  whole 
week,  and  why  you're  so  dumb  about  all  that's  hap 
pened  since  you've  lived  in  Joplin. 

GRACE.  Haven't  I  told  you — and  told  you — and 
told  you — (With  grooving  emphasis) — that  I  missed 
my  connection  at  St.  Louis !  I  didn't  let  you  know 
I  was  coming  because  I  thought  it  would  be  fun  to 
surprise  you,  and  I've  stayed  in  the  house  because 
I'm  not  feeling  well.  And  I  think  it's  just  horrid  of 
you  to  keep  on  asking  me  questions  all  the  time,  and 
if  I'm  not  welcome  in  my  own  parents'  home — I  can 
leave!  (She  runs  crying  out  of  the  room,  upstairs 
c.  Stop  chimes.  MRS.  LIVINGSTON  looks  after  her 
in  great  perplexity,  goes  to  up  c.,  looks  after  her, 
starts  down  c.  and  L.  LIVINGSTON  enters,  dressed 


THE  FIRST  YEAR  91 


for  church,  comes  down  to  his  chair  by  table 
looks  around  for  papers.) 

LIVINGSTON.     Ain't  the  Sunday  papers  come  yet  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I  haven't  seen  them.  Are  you 
ready  ? 

LIVINGSTON.     For  what? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I  say,  are  you  ready  for 
church? 

LIVINGSTON.  Don't  you  see  I  am  ?  (Shows  her 
handkerchief  in  coat  pocket.)  I  wonder  why  they 
haven't  left  the  papers.  I'm  going  to  call  them  up. 
(Goes  up  L.  of  cv  gets  'phone  book,  brings  it  down 
to  stool  front  of  table  R.,  and  sits.)  What's  the  fel 
low's  name  that  keeps  the  news-stand? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Who  has  her  mind  on  GRACE) 
Fred  - 

LIVINGSTON.  (Turns  pages  of  'phone  book)  Fred 
—  F,  F,  F—  Fr—  that  ain't  his  name—  it's  Henry- 
Henry  Washburn—  W,  W,  W  - 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Fred!  (LIVINGSTON  is  look 
ing  through  book.)  I'm  terribly  worried  about 
Grace  —  and  I  need  your  help  ! 

LIVINGSTON.  Ah!  Washburn—  Main,  three,  two, 
three,  ring  three.  (Crosses  up  to  'phone,  rings  bell, 
takes  off  receiver.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Crosses  up  to  R.  of  him) 
Grace  didn't  tell  us  the  truth  when  she  came  home, 
Fred  —  I'm  sure  she  didn't  ! 

LIVINGSTON.  (Into  'phone)  Hello!  I  want  three, 
three—  two—  three  ring—  what  the  hell  did  I  say  that 
number  was  ?  (Comes  down,  gets  book  and  sits  front 
of  table.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Crosses  to  L.  of  him,  puts 
book  down  with  her  hand)  Now  you  sit  still  and 
listen  to  me  ! 

LIVINGSTON.     What  have  I  done  now? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Nothing,  dear  - 

LIVINGSTON.    Oh  ! 


92  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  But  I  need  your  help — I'm 

worried (LIVINGSTON  starts  looking  through 

book  again) — about  Tommy  and  Grace.  (She  takes 
book  away  and  places  it  on  table  back  of  him.)  I 
say  I'm  worried  about 

LIVINGSTON.  I  heard  you.  When  that  Italian  de 
livered  the  papers  we  used  to  get  them  right  after 
breakfast. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Sits  L.  of  table  R.)  They've 
lost  all  their  money,  Fred — I'm  sure  of  it. 

LIVINGSTON.    Who? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     Tommy  and  Grace ! 

LIVINGSTON.  What!  What  makes  you  think 
they're  broke  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Because  Grace  hasn't  one  new 
thing  to  her  back. 

LIVINGSTON.  Well,  why  should  she?  When  she 
got  married  you  had  me  buy  her  enough  clothes  to 
last  a  lifetime. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Grace  would  never  come  home 
without  wearing  something  new  if  she  had  any 
money. 

LIVINGSTON.  Well,  what  did  you  expect?  What 
chance  would  Tommy  have  in  a  strange  place?  I 
knew  just  what  would  happen. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Well,  it's  your  duty  to  help 
them,  dear. 

LIVINGSTON.     Do  you  mean,  give  them  money  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  What  we  must  do,  Fred,  is  to 
get  them  back  here. 

LIVINGSTON.     What — to  live  on  me? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Yes,  at  first,  then  you  can  buy 
Tommy's  old  business. 

LIVINGSTON.    What ! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  He  did  well  at  it  before  Grace 
married  him,  and  he  could  again. 

LIVINGSTON.    That's  so — maybe  he  might.    Any- 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  93 

way,  he'd  make  a  fourth  at  bridge  without  sending 
out  for  the  neighbors. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Yes,  and  you  like  to  play 
bridge  with  Tommy. 

LIVINGSTON.    All  right. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Now,  I  want  you  to  talk  to 
Grace. 

LIVINGSTON.  Good  Lord,  can't  you  talk  to  her? 
You  know  her  better  than  I  do. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  But  everything  I  say  seems  to 
irritate  her. 

LIVINGSTON.  Does  it?  Oh,  all  right.  ^  (Rises, 
crosses  up  to  back  of  table  R.,  gets  cigar,  lights  it.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Rises,  crosses  up  to  c.  arch, 
calls  upstairs)  Grace!  Grace! 

GRACE.     (Off  stage,  upstairs)     Yes,  Mother? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Grace,  your  father  wants  to 
talk  to  you.  (Comes  down  c.)  Now,  you  must  be 
careful  of  Grace's  feelings,  Fred. 

LIVINGSTON.     I  know  what  to  say. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  You  let  her  know  we  want  to 
be  a  help,  and 

LIVINGSTON.    Are  you  going  to  do  this  or  am  I  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  I'll  be  in  the  kitchen  if  you 
want  me.  (Starts  L.J 

LIVINGSTON.    What  do  I  want  you  for  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  All  right,  dear.  (Exits  L. 
LIVINGSTON  crosses  down  R.,  sits  in  chair  L.  of  table 
R.,  takes  'phone  book  and  reads  it.  GRACE  enters  c. 
and  stands  inside  doorway  watching  him.  He  does 
not  notice  her.) 

GRACE.  (Watching  him  for  some  time)  Well, 
father? 

LIVINGSTON.    What  is  it? 

GRACE.     Here  I  am. 

LIVINGSTON.     What  of  it? 

GRACE.  ( Crosses  down  c.)  I  thought  you  wanted 
to  see  me? 


94  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

LIVINGSTON.  Well,  I  do.  (Smokes  thought 
fully.) 

GRACE.  (After  giving  him  a  chance  to  continue) 
What  did  you  want  to  see  me  about? 

LIVINGSTON.  What's  the  trouble  with  you  and 
Tommy? 

GRACE.  Trouble?  What  makes  you  think  there 
is  any  trouble? 

LIVINGSTON.  Oh,  you  don't  fool  me.  Tommy's 
broke,  isn't  he? 

GRACE.     Where  did  you  hear  that  ? 

LIVINGSTON.     Hear  what? 

GRACE.     That  Tommy  had  lost  his  money. 

LIVINGSTON.  I  didn't  have  to  be  told.  It's  all  your 
fault  for  making  him  go  away.  If  you  had  had  a 
grain  of  sense  you  might  have  known  the  chances 
were  all  against  Tommy  making  a  success  in  a  place 
where  he  didn't  know  anybody. 

GRACE.  (Turns  away  to  the  L.)  I  suppose  I 
should. 

LIVINGSTON.  Of  course  you  should.  If  you  hadn't 
been  so  darned  anxious  to  leave  town,  Tommy  would 
have  been  all  right. 

GRACE.     I  dare  say  he  would. 

LIVINGSTON.  I  know  he  would.  Now,  I'll  tell 
you  what  I'll  do.  You  send  for  Tommy  to  come 
home,  and  I'll  buy  back  his  old  business  for  him. 

GRACE.     I  can't  do  that,  father. 

LIVINGSTON.     Do  what  ? 

GRACE.     Ask  Tommy  to  come  back. 

LIVINGSTON.  (Rises,  crosses  to  GRACE)  Now, 
look  here — I  didn't  see  you  married  with  any  idea  of 
your  leaving  your  husband  and  coming  back  for  me 
to  support. 

GRACE.     Stop,    father.     Don't   you   say   another 

word (DR.  ANDERSON  enters  c.     He  has  an 

overcoat  on,  hangs  hat  in  hall,  and  carries  a  good- 
sized  travelling-bag,  and  has  a  roll  of  papers  under 


THE  FIRST   YEAR  95 

his  arm;  he  drops  the  bag,  and  drops  papers  on  chair 
L.  of  table  n.)  I'll  never  ask  you  to  support  me — 
and  I  won't  stay  in  this  house  another  day — do  you 
understand  ?  Not  another  day ! 

DR.  ANDERSON.  (Crosses  to  GRACE)  Here,  here, 
here — what's  all  this? 

GRACE.     Oh !    Oh,  Uncle  Myron ! 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Why,  Gracie,  what  on  earth  is 
the  matter?  (GRACE  throws  her  arms  around  his 
neck  and  bursts  into  violent  sobbing.  The  Doctor 
holds  her,  patting  her  gently  on  the  shoulder,  and 
trying  to  soothe  her.) 

LIVINGSTON.  (With  a  good  deal  of  concern,  which 
he  tries  to  conceal)  Get  her  to  stop  that,  will  you, 
Myron?  (GRACE  cries.)  I  didn't  think  I  was  going 
to  upset  her  like  that.  (GRACE  cries.)  Tell  her  I 
didn't  mean  it.  (Sits  in  chair,  then  feels  to  see  what 
he  is  sitting  on;  rises,  finds  papers,  a  broad  smile* 
comes  over  his  face,  takes  papers,  sits  and  reads.) 

DR.  ANDERSON.  There,  there,  Gracie,  take  it  easy. 
(He  takes  her  to  settee.)  Goodness,  I've  never  heard 
you  cry  like  this  before  in  my  life. 

GRACE.  (Speaking  between  sobs  with  great  dif 
ficulty)  Oh,  Uncle,  I'm  so  glad  you're  back — so 
glad! 

DR.  ANDERSON.  So  am  I!  Now,  what  is  it, 
Gracie  ?  Tell  me  all  about  it. 

GRACE.  There  was  something  I  wanted  to  tell  you ! 
I  wanted  to  tell  you  when  I  came  home,  but  you 
weren't  here. 

DR.  ANDERSON.  What  is  it,  Gracie?  (GRACE 
whispers  in  his  ear.)  God  bless  you,  Gracie !  (MRS. 
LIVINGSTON  enters  from  L.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Why,  Myron,  when  did  you 
get  here? 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Just  this  moment.  (GRACE 
cries.)  • 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    What's  the  matter? 


96  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Oh,  nothing.  Grade's  a  little  up 
set,  that's  all. 

GRACE.     I'm  all  right  now. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Crosses  up  c.,  looking  from 
one  to  the  other  and  deciding  not  to  refer  to  GRACE'S 
crying;  goes  c.,  giving  LIVINGSTON  a  cutting  look, 
blaming  him  for  upsetting  GRACE  ;  turns  to  Doctor.) 
Did  you  have  a  good  time,  Myron  ? 

DR.  ANDERSON.  (Talking  easily  to  MRS.  LIVING 
STON,  but  keeping  his  arm  around  GRACE  and  strok 
ing  her  hair)  Oh,  the  usual  sort.  These  Doctors' 
Conventions  are  all  alike,  everything  crowded,  poor 
accommodations,  and  a  lot  of  sitting  around  listen 
ing  to  old  fogies  talk. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     I  imagine  you  did  your  share. 

DR.  ANDERSON.  (Smiling)  No — the  Convention 
only  lasted  a  week. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Well,  we'd  begun  to  get  wor 
ried  about  you. 

DR.  ANDERSON.     Why  was  that  ? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  The  Convention  was  over 
Thursday.  We  expected  you  home  two  days  ago. 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Oh !  Well,  I  should  have  been, 
but  I  stopped  off  to  make  a  visit. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     Where? 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Joplin.  (GRACE  rouses  up  sud 
denly  and  looks  at  him.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Joplin !    Did  you  see  Tommy? 

DR.  ANDERSON.  (Casually)  Oh,  yes.  (To 
GRACE)  I  went  there  to  call  on  you  both — I  didn't 
know  you'd  come  home,  Grace. 

GRACE.  (Wondering  how  much  the  Doctor  knows, 
and  trying  to  speak  easily)  Did  you — did  you  find 
Tommy  all  right? 

DR.  ANDERSON.    Well,  no — I  didn't. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Looking  at  him  suddenly) 
What? 

DR.  ANDERSON.    I  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble  be- 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  97 

fore  I  could  find  him  at  all.  (GRACE  sits  back  and 
stares  at  him.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     What  do  you  mean? 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Well,  the  apartment  was  closed 
when  T  arrived.  I  asked  the  people  across  the  hall 
if  they  knew  where  the  Tuckers  were,  and  all  they 
could  tell  me  was  that  on  Tuesday  they'd  seen  a 
doctor  going  in  there. 

GRACE.     A  doctor? 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Yes.  I  got  the  doctor's  name, 
called  him  up,  and  learned  that  he  had  taken  Tommy 
to  a  hospital!  (GRACE  springs  up  suddenly  itnth  a 
little  stifled  scream.) 

DR.  ANDERSON.  (Rises  quickly]  There,  there, 
Gracie,  it's  all  right — nothing  to  worry  about  at  all. 
He  isn't  in  any  danger. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     But  what  was  it.  Myron? 

DR.  ANDERSON.  (Easily)  Poisoning — the  doctor 
thought. 

GRACE.     Not — not  suicide? 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Oh,  no,  no — just  something  he'd 
eaten  or  drunk! 

GRACE.  (Goes  up  L.  to  bookcase)  Where's  a  time 
table? 

DR.  ANDERSON.  (Secretly  pleased)  Now,  don't 
let  it  upset  you,  Grace.  He  isn't  in  any  danger  at 
all 

GRACE.  (Finds  timetable,  comes  down  between 
Doctor  and  MRS.  LIVINGSTON,  sits  on  settee  L.,  try 
ing  to  find  the  page)  But  I've  got  to  get  to  him — I've 
got  to!  You  know  all  about  it.  don't  you.  Uncle? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Know  about  what? 

GRACE.     My  leaving  him ! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    What? 

GRACE.     Yes,  that's  the  truth,  mother. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  You  quarrelled — with  Tom 
my? 

GRACE.     Not  quarrelled — fought!     And  then  we 


98  THE   FIRST  YEAR 

separated — forever.  And  1  was  a  miserable  wretch 
to  do  it.  (Turns  over  leaves  of  timetable.)  Because 
Tommy'd  just  had  a  great  disappointment,  and  lost 
everything!  And  I'd  no  right  to  leave  him  at  a 
time  like  that.  And  I'm  ashamed  of  myself,  and 
I'm  going  back  and  tell  him  so—that's  what  I'm  go 
ing  to  do — five-fifty-seven.  (Goes  over  pages.) 

LIVINGSTON.  ( 'Looking  up  from  paper,  very  loud) 
Well,  I'll  be  damned! 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     Fred ! 

LIVINGSTON.    Well  I  will.     Did  you  see  this? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  We  can't  be  bothered  about 
the  paper  now. 

LIVINGSTON.  It's  about  Tommy!  (GRACE  rises, 
goes  tip  c.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     In  the  paper? 

LIVINGSTON.     Yes. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     Read  it. 

LIVINGSTON.  Local  boy  makes  a  coup  !  (He  pro 
nounces  it  "kowp.") 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     Makes  a  what? 

LIVINGSTON.  Well,  then— coop,  or  whatever  you 
call  it — it's  French  for  clean-up. 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.     Read  itl 

LIVINGSTON.  (Reading)  "The  Joplin  and  Mis 
souri  Railroad  has  purchased  Amusement  Park  and 
will  at  once  start  laying  tracks  for  its  new  line.  The 
largest  price  paid  to  any  one  holder  was  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  thousand  dollars,  to  Thomas  Tucker 
of  Reading.  Thomas  Tucker  is  the  son-in-law  of 
our  distinguished  fellow  citizen,  Mr.  Frederick  Liv 
ingston/'  (Gives  paper  to  MRS.  LIVINGSTON,  leans 
back  in  chair,  puffing  cigar  with  great  pomp.  GRACE 
goes  R.  and  back  of  table  R.  Doctor  gets  up  c.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Looking  at  article  in  the  pa 
per)  Ain't  that  wonderful  ?  I  always  said  that  Tom 
my  was  a  smart  boy ! 

LIVINGSTON.     So  did  I. 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  99 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    I  hope  it's  all  true. 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Oh,  it's  true,  sister — no  doubt 
about  that. 

LIVINGSTON.  This  paper  generally  gets  things 
right.  (Doctor  starts  up  to  door.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.    Where  are  you  going,  Myron? 

DR.  ANDERSON.  I'll  be  back  in  a  few  minutes. 
(Exits  c.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Tommy  rich!  I  suppose 
they'll  never  live  in  Reading  now.  (Church  chimes 
start  and  ring  every  fifteen  seconds  until  MR.  and 
MRS.  LIVINGSTON  exit.)  That's  the  last  bell.  (Crosses 
up  c.,  gets  hat,  throws  paper  in  the  chair  up  c./ 

LIVINGSTON.  (Rises,  goes  up  back  of  table.  To 
GRACE)  A  hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand  dol 
lars.  Well,  you  picked  a  fine  time  for  a  fight  with 
him.  (Goes  out  in  hall  for  hat.) 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Crosses  to  GRACE)  Did  you 
find  a  train,  dear? 

GRACE.     No ! 

LIVINGSTON.  (Coming  in  c.)  I'll  look  'em  up  for 
you  when  we  get  back  from  church. 

GRACE.  You  needn't — I'm  not  going.  (Going 
down  R.j 

LIVINGSTON.     What? 

MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  (Simultaneously  with  MR. 
LIVINGSTON)  Not  going?  (Alone)  Why  not? 

GRACE.  Because  I  can't.  T  left  him  when  I 
thought  he'd  failed — do  you  think  I  can  go  back 
now? 

LIVINGSTON.  (Who  has  got  his  hat,  holds  cloak 
for  MRS.  LIVINGSTON,  which  he  gets  from  back  of 
chair  up  c.)  Oh,  don't  be  so  damned  silly!  Here, 
Emily !  (Holds  out  the  cloak.) 

GRACE.  Sillv!  To  always  have  him  feel  that  I 
came  back  because  he'd  made  money!  (MRS.  LIV 
INGSTON  crosses  to  MR.  LIVINGSTON  up  c.,  puts  cloak 
on.) 


ioo  THE   FIRST   YEAR 

LIVINGSTON.  If  you're  so  shy  about  going  back — 
I'll  go  myself.  I'd  like  to  see  Joplin  anyhow.  (Tak 
ing  MRS.  LIVINGSTON  by  the  arm  and  going  out  door 
c.)  Come  on,  Emily.  Don't  forget — hundred  and 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars — Amusement  Park — 
they'll  be  asking  all  about  it  at  church.  ( Exits  with 
MRS.  LIVINGSTON.  Door  bell.  GRACE  stands  for  a 
while  in  thought,  then  sits  on  sofa.  When  she  hears 
voices  in  the  hall  she  rises,  thinking  her  father  /.<• 
speaking  t,o  TOMMY.  Offstage.)  Well,  well,  when 
did  you  get  back  to  town?  You'll  find  Grace  right 
in  the  parlor — try  and  get  her  to  come  to  church. 
(DiCK  enters,  looks  at  GRACE  a  moment,  comes  doum 
c.) 

DICK.     Hello,  Grace! 

GRACE.  (Her  expression  changes  to  disappoint 
ment  at  it  not  being  TOMMY)  Oh,  hello,  Dick.  I 
didn't  know  you  were  home.  (Comes  to  stool  in 
front  of  table,  sits. ) 

DICK.  (Sits  L.  of  table  R.J  I  got  in  last  night.  T 
suppose  you  know  why  I'm  back? 

GRACE.     No. 

DICK.     I  lost  my  job  with  the  railroad. 

GRACE.     (Sympathetically )     Dick — you  didn't. 

DICK.  Yes,  on  account  of  what  T  said  about  that 
spur  line. 

GRACE.     I'm  sorry,  Dick. 

DICK,  It  wasn't  my  fault.  (Rises,  goes  L.)  They 
told  me  at  the  office  that  spur  was  goin^  just  where 
I  said  it  was.  (Comes  back  to  her.)  I'd  rather  not 
have  it  known  around  town — you  know  the  way  they 
talk,  and  came  over  to  ask  if  you'd  tell  Tommy  not 
to  speak  of  it — will  you? 

GRACE.     Dick.  Tommy  and  I  have  separated  ! 

DICK.     Not  really ! 

GRACE.    (Almost  breaking  doum)     Yes. 

DICK.     (Sits  L.  of  table  R.J     You  don't  say. 

GRACE.    You  haven't  seen  Tommy  again,  then? 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  101 

DICK.     Not  since  that  night.     Why? 

GRACE.  He  said  something  that  made  me  think  he 
might  see  you  again.  Dick,  do  you  think  that  on 
the  night  you  called  T  received  you  with  more  enthu 
siasm  than  I  should? 

DICK.  Well,  you  couldn't  have  heen  too  cordial 
to  suit  me. 

GRACE.  But  you  didn't  misunderstand  my  wel 
come — you  knew  it  was  just  friendly? 

DICK.  Of  course.  What  are  you  trying  to  find 
out? 

GRACE.  I  was  wondering  if  I  had  given  Tommy 
cause  to  be  annoyed.  He  was  jealous  of  the  way  I 
met  you. 

DICK.     Oh.  I  see. 

GRACE.  Tommy  accused  me  of  lots  of  things  that 
night — (Rises) — of  just  everything.  WThy,  I  have 
never  been  spoken  to  in  my  life  the  way  he  talked 
to  me. 

DICK.  (Rises)  Well,  I  don't  know  as  I  blame 
Tommy  much  for  being  jealous  of  you.  Grace.  Of 
course,  there  are  ways  to  handle  a  woman,  and  Tomr 
my  hasn't  had  enough  experience  to  know.v  tf:'£  tod 
bad,  because  if  ever  a  girl  deserved  an  ace — you  do,', 
(He  puts  his  hands  on  GRACE'S  arms ', and  stands 
looking  at  her  as  TOMMY  appears  in  doorway.  He 
is  dressed  in  a  cutaway  coat,  grey  trousers,  patent- 
leather  shoes,  carries  a  cane  and  bo.r  of  flowers.  He 
puts  hat  on  table  just  outside  door  c.  before  he  sees 
GRACE.) 

(GRACE,  lookina  up.  sees  TOMMY  first.  DICK,  see 
ing  GRACE'S  gase  turned  up  stage,  follows  with 
a  turn  of  the  head,  and  as  TOMMY  comes  down 
stage,  turns  slowly  around  facing  TOMMY  all  the 
time. 

(TOMMY  comes  down  to  a  level  with  DICK  and 
GRACE,  looks  at  them  for  a  moment,  then  throws 


102  THE   FIRST   YEAR 

cane  and  flowers  up  stage  and  slaps  DICK'S  face. 
GRACE  screams.  TOMMY  starts  over  to  speak  to 
GRACE  as  DICK  lands  his  right  fist  on  TOMMY'S 
jaw. 

(TOMMY  turns,  grabs  DICK.  DICK  grabs  TOMMY, 
takes  his  coat  tails  and  rips  the  coat  all  the  way 
up  the  back.  TOMMY  breaks  and  pulls  off  the 
coat.  DICK  turns  to  quiet  GRACE,  who  is  calling 
for  them  not  to  fight.  TOMMY  comes  back  and 
kicks  him  on  'his  seat.  DICK  turns — they 
struggle.) 

GRACE.  (Runs  up  to  door  c.,  calling)  Mother! 
Father !  Somebody — come  quick !  (She  comes  down 
c.,  calling)  Don't  fight — you're  killing-  each  other! 

DICK.  (Has  turned  TOMMY  around  so  that  his 
arms  are  pinned  behind  him)  It's  all  right.  Grace. 
I've  got  him!  (At  this  TOMMY  stamps  on  his  foot. 
They  break.  TOMMY  goes  L.  a  few  steps,  then  back 
to  DICK — they  clinch.  DICK  throws  TOMMY  up 
Stage  to  floor,  jumps  on  top  of  him.  GRACE  pounds 
an,  DICK'S  back,  trying  to  separate  them.  They  still 
kcep-ai.il;  she  looks  around,  sees  vase,  goes  and 
gets  it),  ••• 

GRACE.  .  J'll  stop  you!  (She  throws  vase  to  hit 
DICK;  it  goes  over  his  head  and  hits  TOMMY,  who 
goes  limp.  GRACE  screams.) 

DICK.    (Rises)     Now  see  what  you've  done ! 

GRACE.    Oh,  Tommy,  darling!     (Kneels  by  him.) 

DICK.  He  deserved  what  he  got !  (Goes  out  call 
ing)  I'll  get  the  Doctor.  Doctor !  Doctor !  Come 
quick — Tommy's  hurt!  (Doctor  enters,  meeting 
DICK,  who  exits  past  him,.  Doctor  goes  to  TOMMY 
and  examines  him.  GRACE  is  kneeling  beside  him.) 

GRACE.  Oh.  Uncle  Myron,  I  think  I've  killed  him ! 
Don't  let  him  die—please ! 

DR.  ANDERSON.  He  won't  die,  Grace.  How  did  it 
happen  ? 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  103 

GRACE.     I  hit  him  with  a  vase 

DR.  ANDERSON.    What ! 

GRACE.  I  aimed  it  at  Dick !  I  thought  Dick  was 
killing  him. 

DR.  ANDERSON.  I  see.  If  you'll  get  my  bag, 
Grace — it's  in  my  office.  (GRACE  rushes  off  c.  TOM 
MY  comes  to  and  takes  in  his  surroundings.  Doctor 
helps  him  up  and  seats  him  on  settee  L.  TOMMY  car 
ries  a  fine  black  eye.) 

TOMMY.     Where's  Loring? 

DR.  ANDERSON.     Gone. 

TOMMY.     He  coming  back? 

DR.  ANDERSON.     No. 

TOMMY.  Thank  God  for  that!  (GRACE  enters 
with  bag.) 

DR.  ANDERSON.    You'll  be  all  right  in  a  minute. 

TOMMY.  (Trying  to  stand,  as  he  sees  GRACE  com 
ing  down  c.)  I  am  all  right  now.  (Stvays — GRACE 
and  the  Doctor  get  him  seated  again.) 

DR.  ANDERSON.  You  sit  still  till  I  fix  you  up. 
(He  reaches  in  bag  for  cotton  and  antiseptic.) 

GRACE.     (Very  timidly)     Does  it  hurt? 

TOMMY.  (Gives  her  one  look)  It  does,  but  I've 
been  hurt  so  much  lately  that  I  don't  mind  it  as  much 
as  I  might. 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Grace,  will  you  get  some  water 
and  a  cloth — a  napkin  will  do.  (GRACE  goes  out  L.) 
Don't  talk  that  way  to  her,  Tommy.  Grace  feels 
pretty  bad  about  this. 

TOMMY.  I  hope  she  does.  (Doctor  is  now  put 
ting  some  antiseptic  on  TOMMY'S  head.)  That  fdlow 
Loring  hits  an  awful  blow,  Doctor. 

DR.  ANDERSON.    Loring  didn't  hit  you  there. 

TOMMY.    Well,  it's  all  swollen 

DR.  ANDERSON.    Yes,  and  cut! 

TOMMY.  And  bleeding.  I  didn't  just  break  out 
that  way,  did  I? 


io4  THE   FIRST   YEAR 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Oh,  no,  you  were  hit!  (Goes  to 
bay,  fixes  gauze  pad  for  TOMMY'S  eye.) 

TOMMY.     I  thought  so. 

DR.  ANDERSON.     With  a  vase. 

TOMMY.     Is  that  all  ?     It  felt  like  a  safe. 

DR.  ANDERSON.     Grace  threw  it ! 

TOMMY.  (Looks  at  Doctor)  She  still  loves  me, 
then. 

DR.  ANDERSON.  She  thought  Loring  was  getting 
the  better  of  you. 

TOMMY.  I  see — she  wanted  to  make  sure.  I 
knew  I  was  wrong  to  come  back  here  with  yon,  :)oc- 
tor — but  you  said  it  was  the  time  for  me  to  see  her— 
that  there'd  be  nobody  home,  and  she'd  fall  on  my 
neck.  You  said  that,  didn't  you? 

DR.  ANDERSON.    Yes,  Tommy.  I  said  that. 

TOMMY.  You  had  the  situation  diagnosed  Ml 
wrong,  Doctor.  (GRACE  enters  with  basin  of  water 
and  cloth.) 

GRACE.     Here,  Uncle. 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Thank  you,  dear.  (Puts  panwi 
table,  wets  end  of  the  napkin  and  washes  TOMMY'S 
eye,  then  goes  through  bag  for  scissors  and  a/lhcsive 
plaster.)  Now,  Grace,  if' you'll  help  me  here — hold 
Tommy's  head  that  way  so  I  can  see.  (GRACE  makes 
a  movement  to  help.) 

TOMMY.  I  can  hold  my  own  head,  thank  you. 
(Takes  his  head  in  his  hands.) 

DR.  ANDERSON.  That's  all  right,  but  I  want  Grace 
to  hold  this  adhesive  plaster  so  I  can  cut  it.  (Cuts 
plaster — GRACE  holds  it.  Puts  pad  on  TOMMY'S 
eye.)  There,  this  will  be  fine.  After  the  head  stops 
aching,  Tommy,  you'll  be  all  right. 

GRACE.  Then  that's  all  you  want  of  me?  (She 
crosses  up  R.c.j 

TOMMY.  (Crosses  up  to  her  c.)  Just  one  mo 
ment,  please.  (GRACE  stops  by  chair  R.C.J  There's 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  105 

something  I'd  like  to  say  to  you,  if  I  may — it  won't 
take  up  much  of  your  time. 

GRACE.     Well?' 

TOMMY.  Contrary  to  the  opinions  of  master 
minds,  I  happened  to  guess  certain  facts  about  a  rail 
road.  I  have  a  check  here  which  I  think  you  are 
entitled  to.  (Offers  check.) 

GRACE.  That's  very  generous  of  you,  but  I  don't 
want  your  money. 

TOMMY.  I  shall  give  it  to  the  Doctor  if  you  don't 
take  it. 

GRACE.     I  won't  touch  it. 

TOMMY.  Will  you  see  that  Mr.  Livingston  gets 
that,  Doctor?  (Doctor  takes  check.  TOMMY  crosses 
c.,  gets  coat  from  floor,  puts  it  on,  crosses  to  GRACE.) 
Good-bye !  (He  starts  up  for  box  and  cane.) 

GRACE.     Good-bye ! 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Aren't  you  going  to  say  good-bye 
to  me? 

TOMMY.  Good-bye,  Doctor.  (Crossing  down  to 
Doctor  and  shaking  hands.) 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Before  you  go.  Tommy,  there's 
one  question  I'd  like  you  to  answer. 

TOMMY.     What  is  it.  Doctor? 

DR.  ANDERSON.  What  would  you  rather  be  than 
anything  in  the  world? 

TOMMY.    (After  a  moment's  thought)     Single! 

DR.  ANDERSON.  I  don't  believe  you  mean  that. 
Tommy.  I  know  you  love  Grace,  and  you've  passed 
the  worst  time. 

GRACE.  (Going  to  stool,  sits)  T  have  passed  the 
worst  time  I  have  ever  had. 

DR.  ANDERSON.  (Crossing  to  GRACE)  Will  you 
please  tell  me.  Grace,  what  it  was  all  about? 

GRACE.  Yes.  I  will !  He  was  downright  brutal 
to  me! 

TOMMY.  Brutal?  Why  do  you  say  that  to  the 
Doctor? 


io6  THE   FIRST   YEAR 

GRACE.  Because  you  were !  I  have  marks  on  my 
arms  yet  where  you  held  me. 

DR.  ANDERSON.  What  did  you  do  that  for,  Tom 
my  ? 

TOMMY.  She  tried  to  leave  the  house  at  nine 
o'clock  at  night. 

^  DR.    ANDERSON.      (To    GRACE)      Is    that    true, 
Grace  ? 

GRACE.  Yes — after  he  talked  to  me  so  I  couldn't 
stand  it  any  longer.  (TOMMY  crosses  to  settee  and 
sits.) 

DR.  ANDERSON.     And  you  were  leaving  for  good? 

GRACE.     Yes. 

DR.  ANDERSON.  And  he  grabbed  you  and  held 
you? 

GRACE.     Yes,  he  did. 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Well,  some  women  would  think 
that  flattering. 

GRACE.     Well,  I  don't ! 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Why,  Gracie !  Tommy  talked  of 
you  the  whole  time  at  the  hospital,  and  didn't  want 
to  live  unless  you  came  back  to  him. 

TOMMY.    That's  when  I  was  delirious. 

DR.  ANDERSON.  No,  you  weren't — (Crosses  to  c.) 
— and  Tommy,  when  Grace  heard  you'd  been  sick, 
she  nearly  tore  the  timetable  looking  up  the  first 
train  that  would  take  'her  back  to  you. 

GRACE.    Uncle — 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Yes,  you  did,  and  you  called 
yourself  names  and  said  you  were  ashamed  of  your 
self. 

GRACE.    But  I — -won't — - 

DR.  ANDERSON.     Stop  it.  Grace ! 

TOMMY.     There  isn't  one  chance  in  the  world 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Shut  up.  Tommy!  (TOMMY 
subsides.)  You  two  are  just  suffering  from  matri 
monial  measles,  troubles  that  look  terrible  but  don't 
amount  to  anything.  Everybody  has  them,  and,  like 


THE   FIRST   YEAR  lof 

measles,  it's  better  to  have  them  young  and  get  over 
them.  Years  from  now  you're  either  going  to  laugh 
at  this  or  cry  over  it.  If  you  let  it  take  you  apart, 
you're  going  to  cry — so  let's  laugh  at  it.  What  do 
you  say,  Gracie?  (GRACE  turns  away.)  How  about 
you,  Tommy?  (TOMMY  puts  up  his  hand — "never 
again.")  And,  Tommy,  you'll  want  to  be  around  to 
see  your  baby ! 

TOMMY.     (Looks  at  Doctor)     No! 

DR.  ANDERSON.  Don't  look  so  scared — it's  hap 
pened  before. 

TOMMY.  I  know — but  not  to  me.  (Rises,  crosses 
to  GRACE.)  Is  it  true?  (GRACE  bo^vs  her  head.) 
Forgive  me?  (GRACE  looks  at  him,  puts  her  arms 
around  him.)  I  hope  he's  going  to  like  us ! 

THE  END 


ON   THE  HIRING  LINE 

Comedy  in  3  acts,  by  Harvey  O'Higgins  and  Harriet 
JTord.  5  males,  4  females.  Interior  throughout.  Costumea, 
modern.  Plays  2^  hours. 

Sherman  Fossenden,  unable  to  induce  servants  to  remain  for 
any  reasonable  length  of  time  at  his  home,  hits  upon  the  n«re! 
expedient  of  engaging  detectives  to  serve  as  domestics. 

His  second,  wife,  an  actress,  weary  of  the  country  and  longing 
ior  Broadway,  has  succeeded  in  discouraging  every  oth*r  cook  and 
butler  against  remaining  long  at  the  house,  believing  that  by  w» 
doing  she  will  win  her  husband  to  her  theory  that  country  Ufa 
is  dead.  So  she  is  deeply  disappointed  when  she  finds  she  cannot 
discourage  the  new  servants. 

The  sleuths,  believing  thoy  had  been  called  to  report  on  tha 
actions  of  those  living  with  the  Fessendens,  proceeded  to  warn 
.Mr.  Fessenden  that  his  wife  has  been  receiving  love-notes  from 
Steve  Mark,  an  actor  friend,  and  that  his  daughter  has  been 
planning  to  elope  with  a  thief. 

One  sleuth  causes  an  uproar  in  the  house,  making  a  mess  of 
the  situations  he  has  witnessed.  Mr.  Fessenden,  however,  ha*, 
learned  a  lesson  and  is  quite  willing  to  leave  the  servant  problem 
to  his  wife  thereafter.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.) 

Price,  75  C«wt«. 


A  FULL   HOUSE 

A  farcical  comedy  in  3  acts.  By  Fred  Jackson.  7  males, 
7  females.  One  interior  scene.  Modern,  costumes.  Time, 
2*£  hours. 

Imagine  a  reckless  and  wealthy  youth  who  -writes  ardent 
love  letters  to  a  designing  chorus  girl,  an  attorney  brother- 
in-law  who  steals  the  letters  and  then  gets  his  hand-bag  mixed 
tip  with  the  grip  of  a  burglar  who  has  just  stolen  a  valuable 
necklace  from  the  mother  of  the  indiscreet  youth,  and  the 
efforts  of  the  crook  to  recover  his  plunder,  as  incidents  in 
the  story  of  a  play  in  which  the  swiftness  of  the  action 
never  halts  for  an  instant.  Not  only  are  the  situations  scream 
ingly  funny  but  the  lines  themselves  hold  a  fund  of  humor  at 
all  times.  This  newest  and  cleverest  of  all  farces  was  written 
"by  Fred  Jackson,  the  well-known  short-story  writer,  and  ia 
backed  up  by  the  prestige  of  an  impressive  New  York  snceese 
and  the  promise  of  unlimited  fun  presented  in  the  most  attrac 
tive  form.  A  cleaner,  cleverer  farce  has  not  boen  seen  for  many 
a  long  day.  "A  Full  House"  is  a  house  full  of  laughs.  (Royalty, 
twenty-five  dollars. )  Price,  75  Cents 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 
Our    N»- 


KICK  IN 

in  4  acts.  By  Willard  Mack.  7  males,  5  fematefl, 
Interiors.  Modern  costumes.  Plays  2^  hours. 
"Kick  In"  is  the  latest  of  the  very  few  available  mystery 
plays.  Like  "Within  the  Law,"  "Seven  Key*  to  Baldpate," 
"The  Thirteenth  Chair,"  and  "In  the  Next  Room,"  it  is  one 
of  those  thrillers  which  are  accurately  described  as  "not  having 
»  dull  moment  in  it  from  beginning  to  end."  It  is  a  play  with 
all  the  ingredients  of  popularity,  not  at  all  difficult  to  set  or  to 
act;  the  plot  carries  it  along:,  and  the  situations  are  built  with 
that  skill  and  knowledge  of  the  theatre  for  which  Willarcl  Mack 
is  known.  An  ideal  mystery  melodrama,  for  high  schools  and 
colleges.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  Onts. 

TILLY  OF   BLOOMSBURY 

("  Happy  -Go-Lucky. ")  A  comedy  in  3  acts.  By  Tan 
Hay.  9  males,  7  females.  2  interior  scenes.  Modem 
dress.  Plays  a  full  evening. 

Into  an  aristocratic  family  comes  Tilly,  lovable  and  youthful, 
with  ideas  and  manners  which  greatly  upset  the  circle.  Tilly 
is  so  frankly  honest  that  she  makes  no  secret  of  her  tre 
mendous  affection  for  the  young  son  of  the  family;  fhis  brings  her 
into  many  difficulties.  But  her  troubles  have  a  joyous  end  in 
charmingly  blended  scenes  of  sentiment  and  humor.  This  comedy 
presents  an  opportunity  for  fine  acting,  handsome  stage  settings, 
and  beautiful  costuming.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.) 

Price,  75  C«ntf, 


BILLY 

Far«e-eomedy  in  3  acts.  By  George  Cameron.  10  males, 
5  females.  (A  few  minor  male  parts  can  be  doubled,  mak 
ing  the  cast  7  males,  5  females.)  1  exterior.  Costumes, 
modern.  Plays  2*4  hours. 

Tke  action  of  the  play  takes  place  on  the  S.  8.  "Florida," 
bound  for  Havana.  The  ntovy  hae  to  do  with  the  disappearance  of 
a  set  of  false  teeth,  which  creates  endless  complications  among 
passengers  and  crew,  and  furnishes  two  and  a  quarter  hours  of 
the  heartiest  laughter.  One  of  the  funniest  comedies  produced  iu 
the  last  doten  years  on  the  American  stage  is  "Billy"  (some 
times  called  "Billy's  Tombstone*"),  in  which  the  late  Sidney 
Drew  achieved  a  hit  in  New  York  and  later  toured  the  country 
several  times.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price  75  Cents. 

•'nanuMBMrnuMaaw^tmnaMonaMBa^^ 

SAKUEIt  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 
O  *r    Nrur    O^ah^a*     Will    Js<-    S*-nt    «•><     i;.r<-<'>i»t    of     H  > -•    Oui-.. 


NOT  SO  LONG  AGO 

Comedy  in  a  Prologue,  8  acts,  and  Epilogue.  By  Arthai 
Bichman.  5  males,  7  females.  2  interiors,  1  exterior 
Costumes,  1876.  Plays  a  full  evening. 

Arthur  Richman  has  constructed  his  play  areuad.  the  Cindaralla 
legend.  The  playwright  has  shown  great  -wisdom  in  his  choice 
of  material,  for  he  has  cleverly  crossed  the  Cinderella  theme 
with  a  strain  of  Romeo  and  Jnliet.  Mr.  Richman  places  his 
young  lovers  in  the  picturesque  New  York  of  forty  years  ago. 
This  time  Cinderella  is  a  seamstress  in  the  home  of  a  social 
climber,  who  may  have  been  the  first  of  her  kind,  though  we 
doubt  it.  She  is  interested  sentimentally  in  the  son  of  this  house. 
Her  father,  learning  of  her  infatuation  for  the  young  man  without 
learning  also  that  it  is  imaginary  on  the  young  girl's  part,  starts 
out  to  discover  his  intentions.  H«  is  a  poor  inventor.  The 
mother  of  the  youth,  ambitious  chiefly  for  her  children,  shud 
ders  at  the  thought  of  marriage  for  her  son  with  a  sewing-girl. 
But  the  Prince  contrives  to  put  the  slipper  on  the  right  foot,  and 
the  end  is  happiness.  The  play  is  quaint  and  agreeable  and  the 
three  acts  are  rich  in  the  charm  of  love  and  youth.  (Royalty, 
twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  Certs. 


THE  LOTTERY   MAN 

Comedy  in  3  aets,  by  Rida  Johnson  Young.  4  males, 
£  females.  Z  easy  interiors.  Costumes,  modern.  Plays 
2%.  hours. 

In  "The  Lottery  Han"  Rida  Johnson  Young  has  seized  upoa 
a  custom  of  some  newspapers  to  increase  their  circulation  by 
clever  schemes.  Mrs.  Young  has  made  the  central  figure  in  her 
famous  comedy  a  newspaper  reporter,  Jack  Wright.  Wright  owes 
his  employer  money,  and  he  agrees  to  turn  in  one  of  the  most 
sensational  scoops  the  paper  has  ever  known.  Hi»  idea  is  to 
conduct  a  lottery,  with  himtelf  as  the  prize.  The  lottery  is  an 
nounced.  Thousands  of  old  maids  buy  coupons.  Meantime  Wright 
falls  in  love  with  a  charming  girl.  Naturally  he  fears  that  ke 
may  be  won  by  someone  elae  and  starts  to  get  as  many  tickets 
as  his  limited  means  will  permit.  Finally  th«  last  day  is  an 
nounced.  The  winning  number  is  1323,  and  is  held  by  Lizzie, 
an  old  vaaid,  in  the  household  of  the  newspaper  owner.  Lizzie 
refuses  to  give  up.  It  is  discoversd,  however,  that  she  has  stolen 
the  ticket.  With  this  clue,  the  reporter  threatens  her  with  arrest. 
Of  course  the  coupon  is  surrendered  and  Wright  gets  the  girl  of 
his  choice.  Produced  at  the  Bijou  Theater,  New  York,  with 
groat  success.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  Gents. 

SAMUEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 
Onr    New    CJutuinxuc    Will    Be    Sent    on    Receipt    »f    Fivr    Ont*. 


NOTHING~BtTT   THE   TRUTH 

Comedy  in  3  acts.  By  James  Montgomery.  5  males, 
6  females.  Modern  costumes.  2  interiors.  Plays  2^  hours. 

Is  it  possible  to  tell  the  absolute  truth — even  for  twenty-four 
hours?  It  is — at  least  Bob  Bennett,  the  hero  of  "Nothing  but 
the  Truth,"  accomplished  the  feat.  The  bet  he  made  with  his 
partners,  his  friends,  and  his  fiancee — these  are  the  incidents  in 
William  Collier's  tremendous  comedy  hit.  "Nothing  but  the 
Truth"  can  be  whole-heartedly  recommended  as  one  of  the  most 
sprightly,  amusing  and  popular  comedies  of  wliich  this  country 
»aa  boast.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  Cent-, 

SEVENTEEN 

A  eotnedy  of  youth,  in  4  acts.  By  Booth  Tarkington. 
8  males,  6  females.  1  exterior,  2  interior  scenes.  Costumes, 
modern.  Plays  2^  hours. 

It  is  the  tragedy  of  William  Sylvanus  Baxter  that  he  has  ceased 
to  be  sixteen  and  is  not  yet  eighteen.  Baby,  child,  boy,  youth 
and  grown-up  are  definite  phenomena.  Ths  world  knows  them  and 
has  learned  to  put  up  with  them.  Seventeen  is  not  an  age,  it  is  a 
disease.  In  its  turbulent  bosom  the  leavings  of  a  boy  are  at  war 
with  the  beginnings  of  a  man. 

In  his  heart,  William  Sylvanus  Baxter  knows  all  the  tortures 
and  delights  of  love;  he  is  capable  of  any  of  the  heroisms  of  his 
heroic  sex.  But  he  is  still  sent  on  the  most  humiliating  errands 
by  his  mother,  and  depends  upon  his  father  for  the  last  nickel 
of  spending  money. 

Silly  Bill  fell  in  love  with  Lolo,  th*  Baby-Talk  Lady,  a  vapid 
if  amiable  little  flirt.  To  woo  her  in  a  manner  worthy  of  himself 
(and  incidentally  of  her)  he  stole  his  father's  evening  clothes. 
When  his  wooings  became  a  nuisance  to  the  neighborhood,  his 
mother  stole  the  clothes  back,  and  had  them  altered  to  fit  the 
•iddle-aged  form  of  her  husband,  thereby  keeping  William  at 
home  in  the  evening. 

But  when  it  came  to  the  Baby-Talk  Lady's  good-bye  dance,  not 
to  be  present  was  unendurable.  How  William  Sylvanus  again 
jot  the  dress  suit,  and  how  as  he  was  wearing  it  at  the  party  the 
negro  servant,  Genesis,  disclosed  the  fact  that  the  proud  garment 
was  in  reality  his  father's,  arc  some  of  the  elements  in  this 
charming  comedy  of  youth. 

"Seventeen"  is  a  story  of  youth,  love  and  summer  time.  It  is 
a  work  of  exquisite  human  sympathy  and  delicious  humor.  Pro- 
duoed  by  Stuart  Walker  at  the  Booth  Theatre,  New  York,  it  en 
joyed  a  run  of  four  years  in  New  York  aad  on  the  road.  Strongly 
recommended  for  High  School  production.  (Royalty,  twenty-five 
dollars.)  Price,  75  Cents. 

8AMT7EI,  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 
Ovr   New   Cmtaloru*   Will    B«    Sent   on   Receipt   of    Five   Cento. 


COME  OUT  OP  THE  KITCHEN 

A  charming  comedy  in.  3  acts.  Adapted  by  A.  E.  Thomas 
from  the  story  of  the  same  name  by  Alice  Doer  Millet: 
6  males,  5  females.  3  interior  scenes.  Costumes,  modern. 
Plays  2V>  hours. 

The  story  of  "Come  Out  of  the  Kiteken"  is  written  around  » 
Virginia  family  of  the  old  aristocracy,  by  the  name  of  Damper- 
field,  v.-ho,  finding  themselves  temporarily  embarrassed,  decide  to 
rent  tbeir  ma-gnilicent  home  to  a  rich  Yankee.  One  cf  the  con 
ditions  of  the  lease  by  the  well-to-do  New  Engrlauder  stipulate! 
that  a  competent  staff  of  white  servant*  should  be  engaged  for 
\ie  sojourn  at  the  stately  home.  This  servant  question  presents 
practically  insurmountable  difficulties,  and  one  of  the  daughters 
of  the  family  conceives  the  mad-cap  idea  that  she,  her  sister  and 
their  two  brothers  shall  act  as  the  domestic  staff  for  the  wealthy 
Yankee.  Olivia  Daingerfield,  who  is  the  ringleader  in  the  merry 
scheme,  adopts  the  cognomen  of  Jane  Allen,  and  elects  to  preside 
over  the  destinies  of  the  kitchen.  Her  slater,  Elisabeth,  ia  ap 
pointed  housemaid.  Her  elder  brother,  Paul,  is  the  butler,  and 
Charley,  the  youngest  of  the  group,  is  appointed  to  the  position  ot 
fcootboy.  When  Burton  Crane  arrives  from  the  North,  accom 
panied  by  Mrs.  Faulkner,  ker  daughter,  and  Crane's  attorney. 
Tucker,  they  find  the  staff  of  servants  to  possess  MO  many  methods 
of  behavior  out  of  the  ordinary  that  amusing  complications  begin 
to  arise  immediately.  Olivia's  charm  and  beauty  impress  Crana 
above  everything  else,  and  the  merry  Rtory  continues  through  a 
maze  of  delightful  incidents  until  the  real  identity  of  the  heroine) 
IB  finally  disclosed.  But  not  until  Crane  ha«  professed  hia  lora 
ior  his  charming  cook,  and  the  play  ends  with  ihe  brightest 
prospects  of  happiness  for  these  two  young  people.  "Come  Out 
of  the  Kitchen,"  with  Ruth  Chattorton  in  the  lending  rdle.  made 
«  notable  success  on  its  production  by  Henry  Miller  at  the  Cohan* 
Theatre,  New  York.  It  was  also  a  great  success  at  the  Stratd 
Theatre,  London.  A  most  ingenious  and  entertaining  cemedy, 
and  we  strongly  recommend  it  for  amateur  production.  (Royalty, 
twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  Cent*. 

GOING   SOME 

1'lay  ia  4  acts.  By  Paul  Armstrong  and  Rex  Beach. 
12  males,  4  females.  2  exteriors,  1  interior.  Costumes, 
modern  and  cowboy.  Plays  a  full  evening. 

Described  by  the  authors  as  the  "chronicle  of  a  certain  lot  ot 
college  men  and  ?irls,  with  a  tragic  strain  of  phonograph  and 
cowboys."  A  rollicking  good  story,  full  of  action,  atmosphere, 
comedy  and  drama,  redolent  of  the  adventurous  spirit  of  yoith. 
(Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  75  CeaU, 

SAMTJEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Btr««t,  Hew  York  Oltjr 


ARE  YOU  A  MASON? 

jforee  in  3  acts.    By  Leo  Ditridutein.     7  males,  7  ia* 
Modern  costumes.    Plays  *H  hours.    1  interior. 

"Are  You  a  Mason!"  is  one  of  those  delightful  farces  lite 
"Owl-ley's  Aunt"  that  are  always  fresh.  "A  mother  and  *> 
daughter,"  cays  the  eritie  of  the  New  York  Herald,  "had  hua- 
t>and6  who  account  for  absences  from  the  joint  household  on. 
frequent  evenings,  falsely  pretending  to  be  Masons.  The  men 
io  net  know  b^eh  other's  duplicity,  and  each  tells  hig  wife  of 
having  advanced  to  leadership  in  his  lodge.  The  older  woman 
was  so  well  pleased  with  her  husband's  supposed  distinction  in 
the  order  that  she  made  him  promise  to  put  up  the  name  of  a 
v&itiag  friend  for  membership.  Further  perplexity  over  the 
principal  liar  arose  when  a  suitor  "tor  his  second  daughter's  hand, 
proved  to  be  a  real  Mason.  ...  To  tell  the  story  of  the  play 
would  require  volumes,  its  complications  are  so  numerous.  It  ie 
a  house  of  eards.  One  eard  wrongly  placed  and  the  whole  thing 
would  collapse.  But  it  stands,  an  example  of  remarkable  is*> 
gtmuity.  You  wonder  at  the  end  of  the  first  act  how  the  in 
can  be  kept  up  on  m«h  a  slender  foundation.  But  it  continues 
acd  grows  to  the  last  «urt»in."  One  of  the  most  hilariously 
a»j»  staff  farees  ever  written,  especially  suited  to  sehools  and 
ttasonio  Lodfet.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  T* 


KEMPY 

A.  delightful  comedy  in  2  aeta.  By  <*.  0.  Nugent  *nd5 
Elliott  Nugent.  4  males,  4  females.  1  interior  throughout. 
Costumes,  modern.  Plays  2%  hours. 

Wo  wonder  "Kempy"  has  been  such  a  tremendous  hit  in  New 
tfork,  Chicago — wherever  it  has  played.  It  snaps  with  wit  and 
Buraor  of  the  most  delightful  kind.  It's  electric.  It's  small 
town  folk  perfectly  pictured.  Full  of  types  of  varied  sorts,  each 
one  done  to  a  turn  and  served  with  zestful  sauce.  An  ideal 
entertainment  for  amusement  purposes.  The  story  is  about  a  high- 
falutin*  daughter  who  in  a  fit  of  pique  marries  the  young  plumber* 
architect,  who  come*  to  fix  the  water  pipes,  just  because  ho 
"understands"  he  Aaving  read  her  book  and  having  sworn  to 
marry  the  authoress.  But  in  that  story  lies  all  the  humor  that 
*tept  the  ,audienee  laughing  every  second  of  every  act.  Of  coarse 
there  are  lots  of  ramifications,  each  of  which  bears  its  own  brand. 
of  laughter-making  potentials.  But  the  plot  and  the  story  are 
not  the  main  things.  There  is,  for  instance,  the  work*  of  the 
company.  The  fun  growing  out  of  this1  family  mixup  is  lively  and 
clean.  (Royalty,  twenty-five  dollars.)  Price,  T5  Cents. 

3 1MITEL  FRENCH,  25  West  45th  Street,  New  York  City 
Our   New    Catalogue   Will   Be    Sent   on  Receipt   of   Five   Cento. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


SEX. 


A.  A.  I 
Harriet 

Paul  Oi 

J*»«« 

Arttar 


George 
Martin 
Victer 
KeteD 
Wte  J 

Rol  Ce 


Freder 
Fred  I 
Percy 


ft.  C. 
WUUa 
tar  Ar 


1 
J 

Frem 


AN     INITIAL     FINE     OF    25     CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


n 


DEC 


19  «* 


14   1933 


FEB     7  1934 

DEC   II1934 

NOV    "7  ^5 

FEB     7    1938 

•        /\UG  -  2  ',SG2 

,5    We»t   45*    3*"**. 


30 


BTD    FEB  4    1982 


L19 


LD  21-50m-8, 

„_ f  CITT 


£  3  /  3  3 


